His small body blended uncannily into the thick mists that had settled in the world around him. He was thankful for it, for it hid him from everything that would disrupt his silent, seething, still rampage. Once again his sister had been ripped from his paws. But this time he knew why. Blackthorne, the cruelty that he was, had taken from him one of the two things in his life he treasured most. His fangs bared at the thought and he knew one day they would have their reckoning. Scars on his face and the tear in his left ear pledged his unwavering loyalty, but there were still some things he would stand up to his master for. One was Zafira. The other was Wren. Hackles rose at the thought. Yes, one day he would rise against Thorne to claim what was his. Now was not that time.

Small body was still awkward and growing. His control haphazard at best. Nothing he could do would be skillful enough best Blackthorne, a pup from a pack and fine breeding. Still now, he knew his body would never be big enough to contend with him. Frustration started to boil within him, the mist pouring off him like steam off his hot body. One way or another, he was determined to one day take back what was his, and protect those he swore to protect. The pup got to his feet, his lips once more covering his fangs, though his mood still lingered. Red eyes glanced lazily up at a circling predator and he huffed. It was of little consequence, a bird from above. It was of little consequence until something far larger came crashing down.

He snarled as fiercely as he could, rolling with the impact to protect himself from further harm. Small stature saved him from being crushed, escaping with bruises caused by big paws. Twisting as fast as he could, he spun to face his attacker, shale body bristled to its points, trying to deceive the other into thinking bulk was his strong suit. He looked to the woman and paused. Through the mist he could see her pink eyes, eyes he had seen once before, when he had been a trading tool. You. He said, voice toneless, stating only that he recognized her from a life long past. Do you know your worth, scamp? He knew he was about to find out, and he was going to fight for every last ounce of the price.