Hurricane of Mexico, Toirneach Mhutair, the massive beast had always contributed to the pack, working day in and day out to protect and mark it’s borders, the midnight warrior knew the lands of Dierne like the back of his inky colossal paw. He marched across every inch of land, doing anything, everything he possibly could to throw himself into his work and not think about her. Every time he rounded a corner, slithered against a tree, lifted his leg to mark another patch of grass, he saw her. The tip of a sunkissed tail, the very tips of perfectly sculpted ears ducking out of sight, the slightest scent of her perfume drifting through the breeze. But every time he turned to her, every time he looked back, it was merely a trick. Just his mind convincing him she was near, when in reality, the lithe queen had probably gone to get as far away from him as possible.

Hurricane of Mexico knew he had hurt her. He had watched the last flicker of light die in her mismatched pools as those cruel words slipped out of his mouth, and while the midnight painted titan had wanted nothing more than to take back every word, every fateful syllable, every agonizing letter, he knew, in the very deepest parts of him, he could not. He had to sever their tie. He had to try somehow, some way, to right the wrong they had committed, and to at least... Try, to put it all back together.

And so he worked. Hurricane of Mexico worked harder than he had in his entire life. He did not eat, he did not sleep. He walked borders and marked lands and when that became too mundane, when protecting Dierne from whatever unknown threat was out there let his mind wander too far, he hunted. The enormous beast threw himself into finding the biggest, toughest, most difficult prey he could find. And he ran it down. Most days, the massive beast returned empty. With nothing to offer. He would find the biggest, angriest buck he could, and chase it. He would run alongside and bark and snarl and run until he couldnt. Until his breaths were ragged and his lungs were tight and his body simply... Couldnt. Those nights he didn’t come home at all. Those days he ran until his body literally dropped, and he could not manage the strength to even stand on all four of his coal pillars. He just smashed, full force into the ground until sleep came. But even his dreams were full of her. Screaming and crying and begging to know why. Dreams so vivid and so horrific he could not even rouse himself from them, he simply let even his sleep torture him.

Other days, he attacked full herds head on. He charged in snarling and snapping and lunging, until he took a kick to the ribs, to the head, until he was sure the entire pack would stampede right over him and part of him wished they would. Because even the physical pain could not pull her from his mind. And some days, he won. Some days a smaller weak doe would break off, some days they would leave her behind, and he would go in for the kill, and he would tear and rip until there was hardly anything left to drag back to his pack, but drag it back he would. Nobody dared mention the overkill on his prey, or the blood that soaked him, or the limp he often returned with, when he bothered to return.

There was no doubt, he could not continue like this. If Hurricane continued on this path, it would lead to his end.

Hurricane lay, out in the open, soaked in blood, and sound asleep next to the young doe he had dragged in late the evening before. It had been days since the massive gladiator had slept, and by the time he had pulled her over the border, the lupine had not managed to find the strength to move another step. Ink painted paws trembled under his own weight, and the hunter had hardly the time to fold his own legs beneath his bulky form before lighting orbs sank shut and unconsciousness washed over him. Blessedly, somehow, the nephelium statured dog had exhausted himself so fully that the hessian did not even dream, he just lay, possibly.. half dead, on the ground, his body struggling to recover from, whatever the monstrous beast had been occupying himself with over the last several days.

He was unsure, at first, what exactly had woken him from such a deep sleep. Until, sniffing, confused and disoriented, it was her perfume, lingering in the air. Bolting upright to his feet, Hurricane’s head swam, his vision blurring dangerously as his massive physique dipped toward the ground, stumbling, without having even taken a step. He gulped air, still rich with her scent, and looked wildly, desperate to find her. She had not passed him, however, only gone near, where he had been sleeping, and so, he followed her, it felt natural, instinctual. How much time had he spent, following her, keeping just out of sight, giving the false pretense of freedom when they both knew well, she was no freer than a canary locked with bolt and key, within a cage. But he tracked her anyways, following every step, her pastel hairs sometimes gracing the ground where she had walked, until he stumbled into a clearing, full of pack members, his fur clumped wildly with blood, his feet unsteady below him, and eyes wild, startled and confused.

Slowly, the sight sank in. He had found her. He had also found Aindreas, and what felt like, half the pack, all eyes trained on him. Hurricane collected himself, sort of. Pulling his feet more firmly under him, standing a little straighter, and shifting his electric gaze to Losa, he had stumbled in just in time to hear her offhand comment, and before he could stop himself, he answered her, “Of course you should be here” his words were thick with emotion, sticking to his throat as his vocal cords forced them out into the world. He hadnt meant, to let her hear exactly how much emotion was inside of him, but he knew the second the first syllable left his lips, she would know everything. It was too late. He backed up a little, closer to the brush he had errupted from. “This is your home.” He croaked, quieter, more hesitantly. Eyes flickering from Losa to Aindreas, unsure how to get out of this situation without hurting her even more than he already had.

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