He prowled in the dark of the aspen woods. His dove grey pelt bore the signiture of his father's kin, the tribal markings made in blood. The blood of his enemies dried and hardened on his fur in a symmetrical pattern except that over his eyes. Who would of known little Draven as he had been named would ever of had the heart to kill, but of course that was a ghost of long ago. A ghost he preferred to leave dead.
He stopped as he came to find what he had wanted. A herd of elk grazed and slept about thirty meters ahead of him. He was quick to sit before laying down. He would take his time and pick off a calf if he could. He couldn't take on a bull or a cow on his own. He wasn't stupid enough to even try. His empty eye socket was closed right now as the heat of this land brought flies and he protected it from the pests. His ears pressed back as he listened to the sounds of the night. This land would make for a good home though he wasn't certain it was what he liked. He liked places where others did not traverse easily. His pack would need something like that.
He remembered his run in with Ganta easily and his lip twitched in a snarl as he remembered it. His brother was a weakling and deserved nothing in his pack except slavery. His other siblings were yet to be decided. He shook his head to clear the thoughts and focus on selecting a target. He stayed down wind and hidden from them. Though he had his guard up, he assumed some of his siblings should they find him would want him dead, merely for being the son of the other woman. He didn't care about that though. He was a Hellstrom through and through.