He had to get out. Just for a day. He was starting to go crazy around all those wolves and not really able to do anything. Avery seemed nice and kind, but there was no way he could every convey everything he was feeling. She certainly was very clever… almost too clever it was scary in some ways. What if she found out he was a horrible cannibal? Hemlock didn’t know anything about Demons, other than they were wolves that used to run Iromar and exist. Nothing of what they did or acted like, what they considered normal. It didn’t matter to him. In regular wolf society, with his family, how he was, he was everything they went against. Wolves who protected other wolves from those who hurt and killed them. He didn’t want to be this way, he never asked to be this way and he didn’t know why he was. Hemlock didn’t know the history of his family, his mother was from outside Moladion, she barely knew her parents and grew up in Iromar basically alone. His father was raised in Taviora, the Aztecs were his family, he moved to Iromar to be with his Imprint and Mate, Hemlock’s mom. Nothing he was told would indicate why he was this way. From all standpoints he was supposed to be normal. He wanted to go back to being normal.

He was very abnormal though. He smelled it on the wind and his whole body froze and he felt drool, ubidden, start falling from his maw at the very distinct scent. Wolf’s blood. It had its own scent, distinct, different than that unappetizing scent of normal prey. There was just something so different about it, he kept himself rooted, frozen to the spot, no he had to have self control. He could eat normal prey and survive, it just had no taste, no flavor. It wasn’t good food. It was like eating the same bland meal day in and day out. He did it, but always when something good flaunted itself it made him… not himself. He wanted it… he wanted it so badly and he hated that he did. His paws moved against his will towards it and some wild sounds started to fill his ears.

Soon he came upon a confusing scene. A wolfess stopped in the muck fighting something he couldn’t make out. Was that a gator? All the way up here? He guessed he couldn't be too surprised that some Gators were in other parts of Moladion, but he couldn't say he had seen the reptilian beasts anywhere else before. He had to help her, right? Resolve filled him as he charged forward. He was about the same size as her, he didn’t know he was younger, especially as he dove into the muck, used to how it felt on his paws he didn’t let himself get sunk in and consumed by it nor cared as it dirtied his white paws. Having grown up in the moors he knew how to take care of these large lizards. They were big, but they couldn’t do anything the moment you got on their backs.

Distracted as it was snapping and spinning trying to get to the savagely snarling wolfess fighting for her life against it. This one wasn’t even the largest he had seen of their kind. It was with his large powerful jaws then that he leapt grabbing the beast by the back of the heads and clamping down on it. Its blood tasted like anything else that wasn’t of his own kind. Placid, boring, almost as if irony water went into his mouth and covered his tongue. It flailed violently against him, but he didn’t give up holding down on it best he could giving her a chance to run if needed while it fought back against its new secondary attacker. He would help this life, he saw her covered in blood, not knowing it was not her own, he wouldn't become a murderer though, he would help her, not knowing what exactly he was protecting. This, he thought, would make his family proud.