He felt an irritation under his skin. His white legs could not seem to stay still. He needed to move, and was driven to do what he does with little self-reflection. The world needed to be cleansed, pursed and yet it seemed to be daunting and irritating task. His large form lifts and move, directing himself away from the tall grass and crouching down into a hunter's crouch. His eyes were wide, violet with violent slashes of diagonal orange. He was a striking figure. He was a god among mortals- at least that is what his mother had always taught him, and her teachings never quite slipped his mind.
His nares flare as he slithers through rock. His massive paws pound on the uneven surfaces, skillful in his movements as he traverses. His eyes were ever watchful as he moves with a hidden purpose. Muscle rippled under his ghostly white pelt, and he paused almost as if to be a statue as his ears heard the trampling of a creature much too careless. The world is a harsh place, where the weak are devoured by the strong. Valefor, as he now calls himself, a shedding of his given name and a show of control over his destiny, was not to allow such carelessness to continue. He knew not who he looked for, only that he needs to follow the sound until he rounds a larger boulder. Before his white form sticks out, he hides behind it, head slowly moving from it as to get a glimpse of what it is that almost drove him to madness.
It was a young wolf. It was one quite young, and quite far from any claim territory where he probably should be. Away from protection. Away into danger and jaws of the beast. The young boy should know better than to travel away, while still so small and weak, and unable to protect himself from those stronger. The boy was not even sly enough to go by undetected- it is a flaw, and his mind must be cleaned to teach him how harsh life can be.
Valefor knows not who the young one is as his muscles burst and he sprints towards the boy. It was an attack from the behind, and attack from the skilled to the weak. As each paw lands, he does not realize this was child of Diveen, or a child that may see his face and call out 'Heyel'- He is the spitting image of the now dead male. He is but a ghost of the self-proclaimed king, ready to soil the name of Heyel with bloodied jaws.
He is easily upon the boy even if he does run. Valefor feels the burn of desire and tingle in his muscles and he yearns to cleanse the boy of his stupidity and ignorance. He needed to knock it out of his head. Powerful hind legs allow him to pounce, his much larger and daunting form jumping upon him with eyes crazed. The full weight of Valefor falls upon the boy from behind, his fangs sinking into the back of the boy's neck by the head. Valefor lets his weight fall upon him, likely putting significant pressure on the smaller boy into the rocks. His attack was silent at first until his jaws snapped on the neck, and then a deep growl purred from within. He shook the boy violently, his grasp firm and getting tighter with each shake.
"Hinc tibi submovendus stultitia," (Rid yourself of your stupidity,) he commands through fur and grip, his voice rough and dark, like bone scraping against concrete. He was still only for a moment while he said it, his grasp firm as he then throws the boy to the ground. His jaws only leave the back of the neck for a second to slightly adjust so his jaws some come around slightly more to the side, where he then finds purchase again. His eyes, wide and flashing, glittering with madness never even bother to look the boy in the eye as he lifts his neck and head with his jaws once more. With a haunting growl he slams the boy's head against a rock, doing it again with little remorse as he does blow by blow to rid the pup of his innocence, and to rid him of the stupidity that could have gotten him killed. The boy will never be so dumb again as to be so unaware, to be so vulnerable to others. Valefor will ensure this part of the boy was cleansed. His body was heavy upon the boy, stuck between the meaty male and sharp earth.
It is one more blow of the head upon rock when Valefor drops the boy's head. He stands over him, tall and commanding, eyes finally staring into the boy's if he dare allow it, and if he is even able to. Valefor had said the words he needed to say. He knew the boy would not be dead, but he knew what was needed to be done was done. He took only the slightest of moments before his legs burst forth into a sprint once more. He runs into the direction for which he came, an exhilaration until he completely disappears behind rock once more.