I am finding that I do not quite like the way that the Monster and Tobias work in the ways of life itself. It is true that my own blood is tainted with the label of “cannibal” and “murderer” but those are not words that define me, I believe. I have never murdered anyone, despite my consumption of lupine carcasses in my younger days. It was all that had ever been provided for me and thus it is all that I had ever known. As I age ever so slowly I am learning so much more of myself than I had ever imagined. Where once there was a desire to be so much like my eldest brother now is nothing more than a blank space. I do not want to be like Cuirass or my father for that matter. I want to be myself in its entirety; whatever that may be.
While I cannot deny my lineage or my beliefs, I can choose to modify them. While others of my kind may soullessly consume the hearts of those of an age in which they cannot even defend themselves, I will be the one who goes for a challenge, who only destroys and consumes the evil of which plagues our world. The evil that lives within those of my pack.
I am tormented by these thoughts as I move at a swift lope away from Asteraia and into the unclaimed lands of Moladion. I do not want to go back – never again – and with that notion I finally feel the weight of those chains being lifted from my spirit. I run and run until I am panting, but I will not stop. At least not until the strangely familiar scent of a female is brought in upon the breeze as it ruffles my thickened coat. I slow to a stop, my one-year old frame pausing in a magnificent way with tail erect and handsome head pointed in the direction of the faraway lake.
My nose tips toward the sky ever further as I inhale the scent of the female. It has been so long and yet I still detect the faint familiarity behind her perfume; she smells of old pack mates and the ex-queen. I had been too young to want to formally meet her, my whims bringing me to only follow my brother around the hills, but now I am intrigued. I take off toward her at a glorious lope, my genetics showing off the best attributes a half-grown wolf could possibly display. With the ground being eaten up beneath my eager paws I am soon closing in upon the older female as my tongue lolls from my sienna patterned jaws.
Eyes of green fall upon the vaguely familiar pattern upon her pelage as I make a wide circle about her and settle upon her left side. Her muzzle is currently dipped into the fresh waters of the lake and due to my long journey here I accompany her in this as I lap from the waters. My eyes are shifted to the side as I watch her in silence, wary of any negative reaction to my closeness, but I do hope that something of my scent is familiar to her.