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As they grew older, the boys tended to spend most of their time away from the den and their parents and more time out exploring the world and what it had to offer them. Floki enjoyed the stories told by his father of his heritage as a Satanican and what that meant. He liked that they were crafty and cunning with their kills, not so straightforward as a warrior. It was more badass in his mind that they liked to lure and trap their prey. Ragnar usually wandered off during the stories or fell asleep, though he did pay attention when massacres and the more savage acts were revealed. Floki could practically see his brother's eyes glittering with anticipation, his tongue licking at his lips like he craved a good meal every time their father brought up the yearnings of a cannibal and a vampire. As far as Floki knew, their mother mostly fed them prey animal meat, but every once in a while, Cuirass snuck in a richer meat that he could only assume was from a more predatory source. Ragnar always scarfed it down like it was his last meal, no matter the source, but Floki wasn't sure how he felt about the texture. Maybe he just wasn't for the cannibal life. As they explored, Floki wondered what kind of wolves they would find in the Woodlands. Sure, they knew that danger could lurk around every corner and that's probably why Ragnar felt it best to jump to the defense rather than open curiosity as Floki liked to greet others. Of course, even Floki wasn't fully unaware of the possible danger. He was always searching for weakness, studying body language. He was more observant of the hidden dangers in others while Ragnar distracted them with his forward offense. Maybe that's why they made a good team. The brothers knew they had a family much larger than the one they could see in Asteraia. They had cousins and aunts and uncles that they might never see in their lifetime or maybe they'd seen them tomorrow. Cuirass spoke fondly of his own blood brother and litter mate, telling them tales of how inseparable they were as pups, just as Floki and Ragnar had become. After a few years, they started to drift apart and Cuirass stayed in Moladian while his brother Kronos went off in search of something else. They sometimes wondered if they would ever run into a distant family member. Would they recognize them? Cuirass seemed to think they would know the smell of family and see the difference in their color, even from the other red and white wolves of Moladian. When a figure stepped out in the spot Ragnar was growling toward, Floki straightened up and tilted his head, watching the adult male with that outward look of innocent curiosity but there was a twinkle of something more in his gaze. True, the adult was marked almost like Floki himself, but that didn't mean he was Satanican. The blue toned eyes also almost matched Cuirass' own but that could be coincidence. Ragnar kept the male's attention, snarling and snapping his jaws in warning that he would attack should the other get too close while Floki stepped to the side, getting a different perspective. "What brings you to the Woodlands, stranger?" His voice rang out with confidence far surpassing his age, his eyes ever watchful for shifts in body language. He aimed to know well before the adult should decide to attack or go after either of them and while the other was bigger and more experienced, they might be able to get an advantage by going for different points as their parents taught them. male.1 year old.32in, 119#.born to Sekhmet x Cuirass.brother to Mihos, Rana, Floki, Bastet, Menkhet, Kaliban, & Runihara.not bound.not mated.father to none.Asteraia |
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