He leaves her, just as she had left him. Only... he would return. He always returned. He was just as much a slave to her as she was to him, he was upset that she'd left and even more so that she'd returned. But he was also... happy? he'd never thought he'd say that word to himself. About himself. He hadn't been happy for many years. Ever since he was a small pup, and even then. He'd been a little terror. So had most of their family though. You see, like many wolves, Samil comes from a rather large family. Many siblings dot the landscape of their old home. Many aunts and uncles, some times it's hard to keep track of who's who.
But there is always one thing that puts them apart from the rest of the wolves of the world. Just as the demons and angles have their marks, so to do the fallen angels. They are not just black with red markings, nor are they just white with red markings. No, they are all three. A pure mixture of all of them. Some have accents of cream instead of white, some are grey instead of black. But all three colors are almost always present in the offspring of his grand-parents. The Originals. Some would call them demons, their thurst for blood never ending, never seeming to be quenched. Monsters in the night, they had been called by local packs.
So it is apparent when he comes across one of his sisters children that he stops and reflects on all of this from the shadows. He is seated upon a small tuft of dead grass, his tail swept around the rusty tip of his tail folded neatly over his white tipped toes as those peircing green eyes take in the male before him. Sen had grown up, the little runt of his dearest older sister positioned himself just so over a corpse, the scent of blood making Samil's lips twitch and his tongue to flick out and gather at the last remaining scraps of a meal from this morning.
His white masked face leaves the cover of the shadows, it was hard some times to think of Sen as an uncle, shit the kid was a good three years younger than himself. But age didn't make a wolf who they where. Rumours of a white wolf, well aged, yet still out for blood when it came to his pack made all the more sence. One blood rimmed ear tips slightly, the pure white inside glaring out in the darkness. "Uncle," his voice is deep, dark and twisting through out the landscape to reach those of his younger uncle.
They where, surprisingly, very much similiar in their views on life. Besides Sen's increasing nature of inflicting himself with wounds. He was as dirty as the dirt on the ground. Unlike Samil, who was both clean and free of any wounds, other than those that had been caused by others in the past of course. "Always a pleasure to see family again, your mother is well I presume?" Samil's sister could easily handle any man that came towards her, let alone a stray female who thought herself better.
"talks like this"