Many wolves looking for relaxation come to Blossom Field. A gentle breeze vibrating the blossoming flowers is quite a sight to see and it is quite a favourite for wolves to come with their mates.

A recent fire has ruined the scenery, half the field covered with soot and marked with scars of the flames. The other half is untouched, however.

Refresh/Reload

“The best weapon against an enemy is another enemy.”
IP: 209.6.242.74

Spektrum growled at himself as he wandered towards Blossom Field. This place is for wimps. Stop and smell the roses, pha! At least roses can defend themselves– He looked down at his white paws, each pearly toe ending with a sharp nail. – with thorns. Spektrum sighed and allowed his pistons to carry him to the flowery field. He had never entered this part of Blossom Forest before, even though it was so close to his den.

Spektrum walked out of the edge of the forest and was amazed by what he saw. One half of the field was painfully bright, full of chrysanthemums, roses, tulips, wildflowers. daffodils, petunias, and a lot more plants that Spektrum could not identify.

The other half of the field, however, was a completely different story. It was barren and covered in puny piles of ashes from the few trees that had burned, now only rotting stumps. The natural beauty of this terra had been scarred.

Just like me, Speltrum mused, thinking his one scar along the side of his visage, near his left eye, which his own abusive mother gave him.

Wolves dotted around the field, seemingly not caring if the terra beneath them was scorched or not. Spektrum ran down into the field and settled right on the barrier of the flowers and barren land. A brownish 'ess and a multi-colored hessian were nearby. Scar Face was determined to ignore them. But once you want to ignore something, your mind can't help thinking about it.

Are they mates?

Does that matter?

Maybe she's lonely.

Shut up, me!


Spektrum paused, realizing how ridiculously nonsensical and insane it was to have an argument with himself. Scar Face stood up, his once handsome silvery coat slightly moving in the breeze, and walked over to the fae and brute, his head jutted below his shoulders -like a tiger- imposingly.

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