It is a strange thing for the monstrous wolf to be satiated, content with a stomach that is full. Especially strange in that the meat which had made his abdomen swell with fullness was not that of lupine flesh, but leporine. But the plethora of rabbits that the season provided had been too easy to come by, too easy to snatch up and consume, that the behemoth could hardly pass up the buffet. And so he had feasted, crushing as many of their furry little bodies in his jaws as he could manage. Until finally, the skin of his belly glutinously taut, he came to the banks of the lake to quench his thirst. He lapped greedily at the cool waters, ignoring the tufts of bunny fur caught in his teeth and the red hue that was cast on his fangs from the blood of his multitudinous meal.

Leaving immense paw prints in the sand, he turned away from the water's edge and made his way towards a nearby tree. The stretch of its shade was inviting, as the heat of the late spring afternoon was beginning to warm the black that lined his back. The breadth of his form circled one before lowering to the earth, enjoying the cool press of the ground to his distended stomach. Scars littered the wolf's form, and he was a sight to behold - one of the largest wolves Moladion had ever seen. Venomous eyes cast around him, his blackened jaws stretching wide in a yawn as his ears flicked backwards. He then proceeded to lower his broad head to his paws, eyelids sliding shut as he began to slip in and out of consciousness. And though he did not fear other wolves - had never had any reason to - he was always aware of his surroundings.