:::not here for my _{confessionals:::}

Satisfaction.

It was a word not well understood by the masses, and therefore not commonly used in everyday expressions. Most beings only felt that elusive emotion once or twice in their lifetimes, if they were lucky, others never did. Malignus, however, experienced such rare contentment almost everyday that he drew breath. The reason? He did what he wished when he wished to do it, disregarding any who attempted to get in his way and brushing the law off his shoulder. He had learned at a young age that doing what was right barely ever brought a creature happiness, while partaking in acts that brought one glee, no matter their moral standing in society, kept a wolf feeling joyous no matter the occasion. For this reason Malignus did not feel peccant about his latest endeavors. In fact, he felt almost nothing at all save for excitement and then, swiftly following that, a deep and encompassing gratification.

He lay beneath the tangle of trees that made up Enocra, his body inert upon a moss-hewn trunk that lay partway across the path below. It had belonged to a once magnificent pine, but had collapsed a few seasons before to rest upon its neighbor, thus creating a lovely ridge of which the uniquely painted male took full advantage. His tail hung over one end, its blackened tip trailing a few lengths above the earth, while his paws dangled across the other side. Any who happened to pass by would therefore travel directly beneath him, making his resting place good for hunting as well as for napping.

Earlier that afternoon, he had pounced on a small possum which darted beneath his tree and had made short work of it, enjoying the crimson blood as it wet his tongue and dripped onto his chest, crusting there. After his unexpected meal, he had seen the wisdom of tarrying awhile in the place and, although nothing more of interest had occurred, he hoped that soon he would be leaping upon the back of something more tailored to his needs.

It was comfortable in the woods, out of the howling wind and cold, sleeting rain that was peppering Moladion, reminding its inhabitants that winter was nigh upon them. Malignus, who enjoyed the colder months, did not shun it as the rest did though, and only hid from its storms because he had not yet finished growing in his winter coat, and he still found that some icy droplets yet made their way through to kiss his virgin skin. He shivered in remembrance of the cold and felt a fresh wave of glee overwhelm him.

He had a feeling that today was to be another glorious one, presenting him with his heart's desires and looking after his needs better than any other ever could.