He was still busy bringing in more wolves for them to recruit but so far it wasn't looking so good. Why did they all want to put up a fight and try to leave? Couldn't they see a good thing when it was right in front of them? He was offering up a home to the lone wolves, the strong or resourceful ones. He didn't just see the big ones as the strong ones. He valued a strong mind as well as a strong body. Not everyone could be as gifted as him and have both. But so far they were either throwing a major temper tantrum or throwing empty insults and threats at him before trying to escape. He just didn't get it. But he would keep trying. After all, at least he was still bringing traffic into Asteraia, right? He didn't see anyone else doing a lot of recruiting so so far he'd say he was the MVP in Asteraia. Maybe he'd be ranking up soon. But what to set his sights on? He didn't want to be just another advisor, someone considered too elderly to do their part in fighting or anything else more useful so they basically just talk.

No, he wouldn't be happy with that. Stealing, he was happy enough with that. But still, he could do more. He was happiest when he was feeding off of someone's pain. That's what he loved about being what he was, a cannibal and a vampire. Nothing went to waste. But first, he made his victims suffer. He drained them while they were still alive, first breaking them down in a fight until they couldn't fight back anymore, whether because of injuries or exhaustion. But he didn't waste a drop of blood so no bleeding allowed until they were good and either knocked out or broken enough to let him continue. Then he would start bleeding them, drop by blissful drop. They would whimper and cry and beg for mercy and when he was full on blood, he would dig into their chest and take their hearts. His sister wasn't the only heart eater. Any true cannibal knew the heart was the juiciest organ. And it was a vampire's heaven.

But now he was daydreaming. What was he doing again? Oh yeah, sleeping. That's right, a nice peaceful nap near the borders while he waited for more of his victims to drag themselves into the pack lands. He was laid out on a branch in his favorite tree, the one he used to frequent as a pup when he waited to ambush tresspassers. Now it was prime grounds for napping. His front legs were crossed in front of him, his chin laid out on his paws, his eyes closed. His tail swayed gently behind him, swinging just below the branch. He was the picture of serenity, if only it could stay that way forever.