living dangerously

The air is damp today, as early morning mist finally begins to subside in lieu of the afternoon sun. Pharos is still lingering the forest, as nature will provide. His belly is full with the remains of a hare the wolf brought down last night, and although he is not downright hungry, the urge to kill remains. Thus, he is found foraging through the underbrush and trunks of towering trees in pursuit of a rodent or two.

His gait, methodical but discordant, pushes him onward. Angular features smug, there is the taste of someone's stale blood on the wind. But he neither seeks to discover it, or devour, and thus he does not follow. In fact, from the direction the wind blows, there are parts of his mind that wager this wolf brings the party to him. Arrogantly, the dark one settles; his hulking figure relaxed among the dark green foliage. Despite this, the iron born cannot help but hold some amount of disdain for those that occupy territories such as this. A forest, in all its magnificence, is not and could never be, his home. Busying himself by gnawing on a root at his paws, the creature awaits his company. Milky white teeth pierce the bark of the object, a slow grating echo originating from the action. He is patient now, arrogant, and smug. A moth to flame... They are sure to meet.