He moved slowly across the lands, each step a slow and purposeful as he walked around the trees of the forest. Again he was going this way, again his fire and ice eyes were set upon the mountain. Something strange happened, something weird, he felt compelled once more to go back to the wolfess that kept his soul. Usually he could ignore such feelings, but she had been feeling different. He wasn’t sure what it was that he felt, only that there was more going on to her now than there had been in the past. He moved around in a different way this time, aiming instead to cross through the fringes of the forest pack and enter in teh hopes that this time when he went to her he would not be disturbed. The leaves were falling from the trees, that meant winter once more was coming, a time of year when she would be vulnerable and he felt the desire to be close and keep all those that might hurt her like his sister had been hurt away.

It was a strange thing, but in some ways Erebos’ mind was simple, childlike even. He clutched in maw a single friend to take with him on this journey, the rest hopefully would remain safe in his creekside den in Glorall. This time he brought along one of his newer friends, a capybara carcass, he had found abandoned left alone after its life had ended. He took it and now it would accompany him on this great journey. Erebos, was odd, even for a child of his father’s, he took after his mother who bestowed on him the love of the dead. His den was filled with all sorts of corpses and bones, and he smelled like he should living around such things all the time. The scent of death clung to him, but he cared for those that were his friends well. Perhaps what was more was the fact he never consumed those he kept or could be friends.

His dark paws carried him until he heard the voice. Normally such things wouldn’t bother or distract him, but the scent of a kill touched his nose. Death always drew him in, though he was not a killer, and not even a hunter of what most would consider usual prey. He lumbered forward, going into the clearing to which the black and crimson wolfess was performing her ritual. He probably was down right awkward, watching her, staring at her intently with the mangled corpse in maw. His eyes went across it, looking over the flesh she now consumed, blinking slowly at her choice of a meal. The corpse collector knew that some wolves partook of wolf flesh, though none, that he was aware of, in his family did such a thing. He didn’t eat the flesh of other mammals, another thing that made Erebos odd perhaps was that he only ate fish and shellfish, which might also make sense seeing as he and his prey were indiginous to Glorall. They made bad friends, so they were good for eating. No use having bad friends.

He didn’t speak though simply stared at her as she did these things. He would not join her, wolves were friends, not food, just like coyote and foxes. They were not food. They were good friends too, but he knew most ate what he considered to be friends, it was a strange way to live but he knew he was the odd one, not them.