YEARS SPENT IN TORMENT, BURIED IN A NAMELESS GRAVE
It had been some time since Wolf had returned to his home. Well, former home. He'd called the Ridge home for the first several years of his life. He accompanied his mother like any other child, only meeting his father briefly. Truthfully Hound had not made a huge impact on him either way. Faolain's indifference to him and his sire, however, did. He had not been reared with affection and softness, but instead he was expected to fend for himself very early. It had helped raise him into who he'd become, though the monster had reared it's head a time or too.
Much like the rest of Hound's lineage, Wolf had a darkness in him. A great beast that rattled the chains of his heart and grasped at his ribs. It twisted it's barbs around him, winding into every dark crevice of his soul. He didn't let it reach his face. Wolf remained mostly indifferent to the world around him, the best he could.
The swim had been uneventful, though it seemed longer now. He'd pulled his thick frame from the ocean, letting the water roll in lines down his roaned sides. Rather than shake himself free of the surf, Wolf headed straight for the trees. He did not find any resistance or objection as he breached the edge of the jungle. His mother's scent remained, though weak, as he moved through the jungle of his childhood. He returned to familiar paths, his hoofprints being larger the only difference now.
A guttural cry reaches his salt-soaked ears and Wolf turns his head toward the sound. Furrowing his brow, Wolf changes direction. It doesn't take him long to reach the source. The beast steps from the thick undergrowth of the jungle to find another stallion. They could not be more different, but Wolf cannot help but notice something about him that feels familiar. He steels his jaw, casting a furtive glance around the immediate area. It would seem, for now, they were alone.
"Wolf," he says, his voice as deep as the sea he had just come from. His small ears flick to the sides, listening to everything around them. It seemed quieter here than the last time he had been here, but he decides against asking about his mother. She'd been here, at least recently. And as far as Wolf thought, he had all the time in the world to find her. There is an air of authority about the way the stranger stands and Wolf hazards a guess, "Yours now?" He is not a man of many words, though it's not stupidity that flashes in his eyes. |
WOLF
hound x faolain.
ardennes mutt.
stallion.
bay roan.
15hh.
of the wilds. |
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