Even in his youth, he is lethal. The twin weasel siblings hanging from his jaws attest to just that, as are the myriad of bloody scratches that stain his pure white face here and there. Not yet has he honed or perfected his skills, but he also has been alive for hardly a season. Regardless he is growing fast, and though his legs still retain that of a chubby child it is obvious he will be a long legged creature. He towers already over his brother, though it hardly mattered between the two as they were equal in all things. Curiass and Kronos shared a special bond that none other could sever or come between, and it was rare to find one without the other. Today, the white was without his red bloodied brother- but he was never too far off, and there was confidence he would be found eventually. It was their duty to wander as all young do, though without a pack and very strict parents they are left mostly to their own devices.

Perhaps that is why and how he finds himself in the Grotto this day, so far away from the Woodland he was born to. His Mother had told him of a certain family that lived nearer to the Crags, but who often overlooked the networks of caves. If he were any other than Seline's son, he might have been afraid to go to such a place. But he was a Satanican Prince- an eventual Satanican King, and there was nothing he feared. Even his youth did not phase him, and his alabaster paws carried him with a certain confidence as he went. Though when the sound of clattering rocks reached his ears, he is given to pause and turn his attention to the source. Bright eyes of aquamarine- half way between blue and green, stare intently in the shadow of a rock face, jaws unconsciously clenching upon the prize in his small jaws.

Fresh blood flows in a river down his jowels, staining the fur crimson there to match the marking that blossoms from his chest. From there it wraps around his shoulders to taper down his sides, and if anyone didn't know any better they'd say he was a white wolf with bloody red wings. But wolves did not have wings, and the definitions of such his markings were vague beside. And rarely was Kronos one to be concerned with his appearance- unlike Seline, he is not a vain creature. He knows he is better than all others, but not in sense of his looks. He is simply better and greater then them all, and once he is fully grown he will show them just what they are all lacking. A small, curious but cautious growl leaves his lips in an effort to seek out the one who made the minute noise. Although it is muffled against the flesh and fur of the weasels, and filled with his youth, there is still strength there. Strength that will grow and one day overtake them all.