When the usurper Aranck had taken the throne of Iromar he had remained in the marshlands because it was what the considered his home. The would be ruler never came into his corner of the moors and he had not traversed the main pack lands either. He had carved out his own little niche here with his den and the subsequent areas surrounding it and lived relatively peaceful and happy. Then his adoptive daughter had returned and somehow claimed the title for herself, something he had been meaning to question her about but she rarely stood still enough for conversation. She had chosen to move back into the den where he had raised her without question and brought some odd looking green-eyed boy with her claiming he was her imprint, whatever that meant. For him it meant the need to pick back up his daily patrols both due to his duty to Pine, and the need to get the hell away from that pair lest he eat the boy.

Still it felt right to get out and stretch his old muscles once more, he had become a bit too complacent over the last few years and he had missed the regiment of daily training. He jogs steadily within the borderline, his large paws beating rhythmically on the damp soil which helped to fight off the chill of winter’s grasp when he first caught the scent. A she-wolf who was not one of the pack seemed to have just passed this way, not necessarily a threat but still worthy of his checking on it. With a grunt he follows the trail until he spots her bright form against the dull tons of the marsh and approaches her, well not exactly friendly but as non-threatening as the large brute could be.

Or so he thought, but as soon as she catches sight of him she cowers, stuttering and scrambling as if he is the demon from hell he used to be. He paused just out of paws length, shifting his weight backwards as his brilliant eyes searched around to see if perhaps she was reacting this way to someone else, but no she stared directly at him while she cried out as if in pain. He bit back the groan that said he did not get paid enough to deal with such things before lowering his hulking frame to the ground and looking up at her beneath white brows. “Who are you.” His tone is firm, a tone he had used many times before on younger wolves who’s minds were torn by the war acts they had to commit and he sensed the same breaking within her as well.