Rallying the Troops

The sound of his father's call on this particular winter's day had exactly the sort of bloodthirsty quality that Chaos could wish for it. It was a bloodthirstiness entirely matched by that in Chaos' toothy grin as he threw up his head to listen. Ah, the orchard, that made sense. Many of the wolves going along wouldn't be Legion's and so it made sense to gather outside of the pack's boundaries. Chaos had decided some time ago not to bring most of Legion's warriors anyway, rather tasking them to guard Rhythm in the pack's borders and to secure the way home for the Imperialis wolves to return from the slaughter. Chaos opened his own jaws, sounding out a howl of his own to the Legion wolves who would be staying behind to see to alert them to see to their duties in his absence. He trusted Valdis to be a competent warrior, and Enrico he had himself tested. Though the other former Niente wolves were untried, he was satisfied that his father's mate and his own pack were safe.

He loped into Valentine's rally with his mind entirely at ease, and so able to look forward to the coming battle. His fangs were already bared in an expression that was as much gleeful snarl as it was a grin, and he flashed it at his gathered family members before he eyed the Abaven wolf who'd accompanied Rhyme. If looks meant anything in a fight, that wolf would be a warrior for certain. Big brawly type. Of course he could be picked simply for that and have no real skill. Well, they'd see soon enough, wouldn't they? And if it turned out that Abaven had been mistaken in the big male's skill, Abaven couldn't blame anyone but themselves for him dying.

Beneath the battle-readiness and the righteous rage that was already coursing through him, his heart ached for the one body that would have most loved to be there among them and would not be here to witness the slaughter. Well, Cascade couldn't be here, but her blood would be, and that mattered. He lifted his gaze from the rest of the few gathered to send a fierce grin to his father. A bit of madness in that grin, maybe, but if so he came by it honestly enough - it was his mother's. "Bet I kill more of them than you do, old man," he laughed, though there was a bubbling growl to the words and a faint wildness to the chuckle.