Never far from my cave hidden den do I wander, because I know what lands lay beyond and yet the wolves who may have once tempted me out are gone, and all I'm doing these days are surviving without a purpose. It is calm from strife and politics in these cave systems, no fights have ever broken out since I had denned here. I've seen many loners come and go, most never really stayed long, and only a few pack wolves have ever come exploring, and nobody ever bothered me, the ever hidden amongst the shadows stray of Moladion. I am no threat and so they leave me alone, because I am as they are- just wanderers. My constant presence in these cave systems perhaps marks them as home to me, and it is very comfortable for me to traverse, so I may as well be inclined to spend whatever days remain in my lifespan here. My family has vanished without even the faintest trace, my father found mauled when I had gone searching, my mother and adopted brother simply gone as if they never were.

I am not a wanderer at heart, I would rather make a established home than roam the lands like some disembodied spirit. I had never wished for things to turn out as they had, things were so easily destroyed without my paw in them at all, and that made me feel so redundant perhaps that my heart had simply changed over, even if I still belong in the shadows. Sometimes I myself can seemingly vanish without a trace, but that's only to those who don't know me, if you do know me enough you will know exactly where to find me. Nobody ever looks for me though, because as far as they are concerned I do not exist, and maybe it's better this way. I have everything I need to survive, water and shelter all found here.

I am curious as to other wolves may view me, how I will shape their opinion on wolves who have settled in this cave system. Perhaps in some twisted way I'm a role model of sorts, it's almost laughable in some strange way. I have been in these cave systems the longest, ever since they opened up really, my athletic muscle perfect for the nights where I have to go out and hunt alone, usuall bringing home a few small catches or one moderate one, and I find that I get slightly better every day in the aspect of hunting. I usually stash what I cannot immediately finish off, which varies due to varied conditions, such as the amount of other rogue wolves in the systems at the moment, and whether or not anyone has recently come close to finding my den. I am a wolf of the cave systems of Moladion, nobody knows the innards of it better than me, something that pack wolves perhaps cannot boast. Strangers have gotten injured here.

One dark russet coated paw hold the prey body down as I devour it in order to prevent it from slipping or moving around, and because I want to get every last scrap of meat, because I need to keep myself as nourished as I can. Mother would not take kindly if I happened to starve myself, and in doing such I will keep myself as well nourished as I can on my own, because accepting help is nothing I've ever been able to do well. Dark bloody red undertoned eyes keep a watch on my surroundings, overlaid with the very dark indigo of their base. It is not long before I hear a voice speak, and my dark indigo eyes undertoned in blood red meet the dark blue eyes ringed in pale lavender, curious and wary, and silence ticks the seconds by. The fur along my spine starts to spike up in a defensive reaction, even if there is little more than scraps left of my kill. I decide that mere scraps are not worth picking a fight over, if the stranger wants them he can have them, if that is even his intent at all. He is the first stranger to approach my den, or really first wolf at all to approach it. My ears slowly swivel forwards after a few moments of silence, the fur along my spine smoothing back over. It is several moments before I can even think of what to vocalize, that's how long it has been since I have spoken to another. "Hello. Are you...lost?" My voice is clear if not a little rasped from disuse, and yet it is clear that I am not in my element.