Most days, the growing male found himself wandering the open lands more than his own home. Home....was Taviora even still like home to him? It was a definite question that was up in the air. Without his brother and most of his family there, it didn't really seem all that homey at that moment. If anything, he never felt more alone when he was there nowadays. His dad was still around, but Dexter was just as mopey as himself, most days. He still blamed himself for his father's murder and seemed lost, like he couldn't rest until he set it right. And Mochi knew he never would get that chance. The wolf who did it was probably worlds away by now.

But that wasn't what was on his mind today. The fields opened up around him, giving him a fresh breeze blowing through his thick fur and a warm sun on his back, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone, not this time, anyway. He stopped to look around but saw only distant trees and shrubs, nothing of note. No other life forms. Heaving a sigh, the male kicked a rock with his front paw and kept walking, only to halt dead in his tracks when he heard a deep snarl that sent shivers down his own spine. Why did it sound so familiar? The tone was chilling, but still there was a tingle of recognition. Why should he know such a sound? Never had someone snarled with such raw emotion before around him.

He might have continued walking if he didn't smell the strong hint of blood next. Fresh, and it wasn't prey blood. A killer was here. Mochi snapped his head toward the smell, his mind and heart in an inner turmoil. He might be able to help the victim, set the murderer straight, or he might just be offering himself up for the slaughter. He wasn't a weakling, but any means. He was taught to fight just like his brother, but he had never been in a fight for his life before, or anyone else's for that matter. Still, right was right. His gaze set on the distant tree line as he tore off across the fields, sprinting for all he was worth till the strong smell of blood almost made him gag.

He knew instantly the victim was dead. There was no saving them. Maybe he should just turn back now and silently mourn the dead wolf, whoever it was. But another part of him wanted vengeance. No, justice. Straightening up, he slowed to a walk and put confidence in his step as he strode out into the clearing where the body was. But the wolf standing over her fresh corpse wasn't someone he was expecting. "Menkhet?" The male stopped in his tracks, ears laid back in dismay as he took in the full scene before him. The other wolfess was obviously dead, her throat all but completely ripped out as blood seeped into the ground around her. The same blood coated Menkhet's mouth and neck where it had been trickling down her luscious fur.

He blinked once, twice, unable to fully comprehend. Or maybe he did and was just praying he was wrong. Maybe there was something he was missing, a story left untold. Self defense? But his gut rolled in protest. He recognized the snarl earlier because it was Menkhet. That wasn't the snarl of a wolf in fear of her life. That was the snarl of a predator hunting it's prey, a killer on the verge of victory.