Magnus always had a mean streak even if he wasn’t meaning to be so. He couldn’t lie, he had needs he was his mother’s child and though they were more deeply kept within him the beast or demon within him, whatever it was, did like its play. He hadn’t let it out in a long time, not since before meeting Fjallraven at least. The useless girl barely could hunt and he was surprised she managed to do anything alone at all ever. She probably didn’t, he corrected himself, she lived in a pack after all and probably had everything provided for her. Whatever, so long as she was safe, happy whatever he was content he supposed.

The mostly black pelted brute had a way of skulking about though wherever she did even if it wasn’t close. He would make a few trips to Enocra Woodland the area close to Asteraia as well as where they first met every so often to check on her before making his way back to Glorall which was his home sort of. He had been growing more and more distant from the River Pack since his mother had decided she had to join, or rather, him discovering his mother was there, it just wasn’t worth it, not when Viora too was rather sparse in the lands and Appolinari gone. What was the point of hanging around then? Yeah there wasn’t one.

So though he hated the little girl with every fiber of his being he still haunted her. Not seen or heard simply glanced at before content and wandering away. But something deep rooted in his chest told him today every single one of his stupid worries for that girl was coming true. It started with something cold in his chest, a feeling like he was breathless though he couldn’t explain what it was. Magnus didn’t fear anything, he never had, so he didn’t understand what was going on when his heart raced on its own while he himself did little to spur such a response just lazing around the area.

He knew he had to go see her. Ugh how he hated her! How he loathed her weakness! But he had to go to her she was fine he was certain no reason for him to have any concern plus her death would surely make his life better! Why should he care? He didn’t he really didn’t but stupid instinct or bonds or whatever it was drove him to go see anyway. He moved quickly far to quickly for his ‘not caring’ part of his liking but the other stupid part had to know. Soon he was sprinting, long black legs racing towards her tearing through trees and brush with little care for his outward appearance then he found them.Two wolves much larger than she tearing biting and the screeching howl met his ears.

How dare they touch her.

It was as if a switch flicked in his brain, no longer was he the sarcastic, somewhat sensible, creature that was Magnus now he was entirely the feral vicious demon his mother wanted him to be. His mind shut down and awoke all at the same time each one of his pearly fangs coming out from behind his black lips. They would die.

He let out a feral snarl that sounded more like a roar, large form pounding forward sounding like a bull buffalo charging with there beating. The beast wanted two wolves that dared touch his soul know what was coming before it hit them like train. He charged for the larger of the two the male, the one’s whose maw was stained most obviously in her blood and the one he felt was the bigger threat. He came from the side, if Reaver continued to chase Fjall he would come from the side opening his jaws wide and grab and tear the flesh from he side of his neck. If he met head on he would crash into him lashing his russet head and attempting to take out an eye or an ear. Anything would do the beast was not picky. Flesh for flesh. He would tear them apart for touching her.