male 39 inches 183 pounds russet/black no home no imprint ariel!


He stalks the martin silently against the underbrush of Tavoria. The red fur thick against the green grass and silver moonlight, the quick meal is not easily hidden. As for the wolf hot on its trail, the lighting is in favor. Breathing slows as he crawls, belly close to ground, along behind the martin that may or may not have a family. The sleek body would be more than enough to curve the appetite of the large male, but he knows there will be nothing left of this catch once it is dead. Eyes focus on the martin, searching for grubs to feast on to fatten it’s disgusting body for the coming winter, its beady eyes or twitching nose not paying attention to the bared teeth only mere feet away from it. The ferret-like creature must be a fighter, as Jago takes note of the thick claws it carries hoping to stay far away from them if he can.

With one quick leap, Jago grounds the martin before it can think to escape. Unfortunately for Jago, in the midst of grabbing the martin between his teeth he gave enough opening for it to turn and claw at his cheek. He could feel small droplets of blood trickling from the wound before he crushed the ribcage of the large rodent, killing it slowly and without any remorse.

Jago carries his kill betwixt his teeth through the territory, happy that he would not sleep hungry tonight. There was a slight blood taste in his mouth now, but he was unsure if it was his or the rodents. He did not care though, for it pushed him forward and his pride was increased ten-fold.

Paws stopped in the middle of the territory and he dropped the dead animal at his feet. With teeth bared, Jago skinned the martin and tossed the discarded skin to the side. But something stopped him from tearing into the delicious juices of the meat. It was a smell that he was not familiar with wafting throughout Taviora. It was the smell of not one, but two, and they were both male. One was still fresh, that much Jago could tell from scent. The other smelled of flesh. He rolled his eyes, picked up his kill, and headed toward the smell.

When he had pinpointed the area the scent had wafted from, he slunk through the shadows to keep hidden. After only minutes of tracking, the three males came into view. There was one that he knew, but he had never talked to him personally. He knew his name, Wraith, but that was the extent. Jago looped to the side of Wraith now, noting the putrid wounds on the older male and the puppy discarded to the side.

Jago drops the martin at the wounded’s feet and backs away. “When you can, eat.”

And he slinks away without another word.

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