The ghost of a titan silently slipped through the endless trees of Blossom Forest, thoughts constantly traveling all over the place. It had been days since his nares could no longer track his king’s scent, yet the varg still pursued Farant. When the time came for the ranks of his kind to gather, Daer did not want to be last to arrive. He so desperately needed Farant’s approval. The moment the brute had called out to his soldiers that they would be traveling to a strange land far away, Daer had been among the first to step up to the challenge. Too many bad memories lingered in the old land, though he wasn’t quite sure if he was to make many more good ones.

Ironically, just as Daer had caught himself anxiously questioning when Farant would muster his forces, lone, strong vocals pierced the busy air of Blossom Forest. To most, that call would mean nothing; it could mean a mate calling out to his lover, a wolf calling to his or her pack to celebrate a kill, but to Daer it was so much more: redemption. He’d disappointed his last king, but now, Farant was the kalak’s one and only leader. Farant was the one he would die for if he had to. He’d given so much to the varg; a sense of meaning and purpose. Ever since a young teen, the copper king had taught Daer to brutally fight and murder others. It wasn’t pleasant, some of the things he had to do, but he quickly adapted to the taste of blood. After all, the crimson color matched his white pelt so well.

In his earliest days, his littermates had always criticized him for being different. In Daer’s eyes, not every kalak had to be the same fiery hue. Daer himself had seemed to take on a dim white instead of the usual rusty color, though onyx fur did still climb up his legs and maw. Daer prided himself in being so different; as him and his siblings grew, he quickly established dominance and inflicted the pain they’d caused the brute throughout his life. After he’d left them for Farant, things had gotten so much better. So, so much better. The only hint of any copper at all was on the end of his tail.

Muscular pillars crunching on snow, small clouds formed outside of Daer’s maw. As soon as he could track Farant’s scent, he nearly sprinted towards the place where they would presumably be meeting. Upon arrival, the titan dipped his head in greetings to his king and the few other kalaks in the clearing. Daer was sure he’d see some familiar faces among the throng that was sure to gather; others were seeds planted by Farant in the forest to harvest whatever information they could. When the king had called upon his soldiers to leave their territory to venture to this foreign one, the ghost was one of the first to follow. Now, he would prove himself.