Danger was something of a terrible packmate. It wasn't that he openly disliked Bright Moon, or instigated conflicts with the other warriors that roamed these halls--in fact, Danger never interacted with anyone in his pack period. That's why he was so awful. What kind of a soldier avoids his fellow fighters? Who goes out of his way to ensure nobody bothers him or gets in his way? Apparently someone like the onyx brute with the alien eyes, his soul as shy and secretive as a deer hiding in the forest shadows.

Despite his blindness, Danger moved with surprising grace and fluidity as he roamed his chosen wing of the territory. Since staking out this area a few months ago, the blind wolf had memorized every fallen log, every covert passageway and treacherous slope. Anyone watching him might have thought he was no different from any other varg . . . as long as they failed to notice his pale, pale windows and the misshapen pupils slashed down both ghostly irises. The dark dog had even filled out a bit and now appeared as healthy as he'd ever been; feeding on the extra carcasses left behind by his companions allowed Danger to put some weight on his lanky bone structure and add a sleek shine to his obsidian pelt. He was--dare we say it--quite handsome now. Or, you know, as handsome as an outcast freak could possibly be. Handsome in a burned-out hoodlum way? Sure. Close enough.

Obviously giving no thought to his appearance--simply because he'd never actually seen it--Danger lifted his incredibly sensitive snout to the wind, pausing in his effortlessly easy stride. Someone had abandoned a rabbit carcass somewhere near here . . . he just hadn't been able to pinpoint it yet. A low grumble fussed in Danger's stomach. He frowned, inhaling deeper. So close, so close . . .

The only thing capable of bringing Danger out of his intense concentration was the call of a Royal on the wind. Commanding and powerful, a song rushed below the clouds and claimed Danger's attention ruthlessly. He brought his cranium up, huge ears swiveling to decipher the sound. Was that . . . Summer? He sounded so bossy. Darcia probably wouldn't like that. But--where even WAS Darcia? With a pang of embarrassment and anxiety, Danger realized that he hadn't scented the intimidating Alpha for days now; it was just his typical apathy blocking out an otherwise important truth. Did that mean Summer was now King? Oh god, this was so mortifying. This is what Danger got for never paying attention. The whole pack probably knew what was going on, and he'd been too busy wandering around in his dreamland. Stupid mutt.

"Crap, crap, crap." Danger muttered that word with every stride as he sprinted toward the source of the summons. Hopefully all of Bright Moon wasn't there yet; he'd be SO HUMILIATED if he were the last one to arrive! Eventually the sightless and senseless brute skidded into the territory's central clearing, his inky fur a mess and a carefully bland expression on his face. Luckily for Danger, hardly anyone could tell what was going on behind his useless lanterns; the young man maintained an impassive facade of Batman-level blankness at most times. He ignored the scent of a female for his own sake--women terrified him--yet Danger made sure to bow his head in the general direction of Summer's scent before speaking. "What's going on, boss?"