Alone. Lost. Unwanted. The young boy slowly walked over the dry, cracked ground. His short-lived bright blue gaze was dull and lacked life. Dark paws carried him as he walked and stumbled through the riverbed, his chest aching as it tried to heal the damage that had been done. He didn't understand it. Didn't understand why things happened the way they did. He was just a kid... What had he done to deserve this? Maimed. Cast out. Chased away. Exiled, they said. But he didn't know what that meant. All he knew was that after his ordeal, he had tried to return home and each time they hurt him more, refused to let him stay, and the last time he tried he woke up here. He didn't know where here was...but it was lonely and desolate, no companions other than the prickly cacti that he had already accidentally stumbled into and now carried sharp, long spines in his shoulder that he couldn't pull out. His feet burned and ached. He was thirsty. His chest hurt and the white of of it was stained red. How many days has he been out here? He wasn't sure. But he was almost certain he wouldn't last much longer. He hadn't been taught to hunt. Didn't know where to find water. Didn't even know which way to go that might lead him to salvation. Suffice to say, they had left him to die out here. His lip trembled a bit with the start of a whimper as he walked over toward a clump of scrub bushes and hunkered down beneath the little bit of shade they offered. Curling into himself, wincing from the pain of the thorns and the wound on his chest, he decided he might as well just accept his fate.

Érebos was found to be skimming the lands of boreas often. day and night, he looked for members to join medusa. why? secrets, secrets. Érebos had agendas hidden from everyone else, his motives clever and unassuming. but he's stopped at the scent of blood. wolf's blood to be exact. and who was it? his nares went to work, working with strong blows of air as he tested the scents with skill. soon he was tracking the aroma with ease.

and it's then he finds a small ashen wolf. sickly looking and injured, with even bits of cactus on them. he paused closely to the puppy, his eyes running over their skinny figure with a look of sorrow. in such a moment, it would show forth the personality of Érebos Dunamis. he.. could've left the wolf there to die, yes. but Érebos was often times a thought out man, seeing the future and feeling its benefits. this wolf would owe the clan for this very moment; it was young enough to adopt as his child & raise accordingly to the Dunamis vision. Érebos pondered then as he watched them motionless, his ears splaying to the side as he sat slowly with a pensive look on his face. serious with what he was about to do. he never did anything he did not mean to.

he had no experience with children, so he ran with it in the way he knew how. if the pup did not move, Érebos lowered over the pup and began to examine it. determining it's sex and current health. he then spoke, softly with his deep voice, "Don't give up. Fight back." he urged them, instructing them a way out of their hell. a light you see, bold & bright, fucking invincible-, all powerful in every aspect of existence. and he laid it upon the puppy as if a god from the sky came to save a failed soul. "Get up." his voice drafted over the wind with potent vibrations. dust swooped up, tugging at their figured under the bright sun.

"Érebos"

He was accepting his fate. Or at least, he thought he was. He was ready to just give up and accept that he wasn't meant to live in this world. Maybe better luck in the next, if there was such a thing. His gaze was far off. Unfocused. The light of life threatening to darken and snuff him out. He didn't immediately notice or acknowledge the much larger figure that approached and loomed over him. No registration that anyone was even there. "Don't give up. Fight back." A voice, distant and distorted. A scattered dream that was like a far-off memory. A far-off memory that was like a scattered dream. That's how his mind was experiencing it, at least. "Get up." A voice demanded. Dust rose up, settling on his muzzle which caused him to sneeze. His blurred and distant vision took a bit to focus as he slowly raised his head, the pain in his chest tugging and pulling from the wound upon it. He struggled to focus back into reality, but when he did, he came face to face with a figure he didn't recognize. He looked up to find the strangers face, his gaze strong compared to his own dull stare. As if he had already decided to give up on life. "Fight back..." He murmured to himself. The words turned over in his head. A quiet echo that steadily grew louder. Why... Why should he? What was in this life for him? If the others deemed him fit to die, then isn't that what he should do? But this stranger...this unknown that appeared before him. Wanted him to fight. "Why...?" He questioned, voice tired and monotone as he struggled to keep his head up.

it seemed Érebos found the pup on it's brink, on it's end. good. at such a young age, there was use in them. to shape them, to control them. Érebos would take them in, train them up and use them for the entirety of their life. to be a dunamis, they were always on call. what was another? "Your life is not ending." he exhaled while his nares flared from picking up other wolves on their scent. "It is just beginning." and with that, he aimed to assist the puppy up, his maw going to lift them gently. this way, Érebos could clearly see the injuries. and they were in bad shape. glancing about before looking back at the pup, Érebos said, "Lets get you somewhere safe to clean up those wounds. Do not try and walk yet." he would then, if allowed, pick the puppy up by the scruff before he set off to somewhere with more sustainable herbs in place to begin healing the wolf. his eyes vigilant in case someone tried to take away his found prize.

"Érebos"