Desperation[MATURE]

An aged grey wolf stood motionless in his little clearing outside his hillside den with eyelids closed and ears listening. But the two sapphires remained moving in their search underneath for a sign from Soi, the god of air and justice. It was peaceful, almost until a point that the aging wolf decided that if he were to suddenly die at that very moment, he would be ok with that. Really, he would. An interesting difficult life lived Bane had called it, even as the grey wolf began to contemplate what a wild card such as him should do to fill the unknowable amount of time he had left in these lands. He didn't know.

A fell, howl-like breeze seemed to waft over Bane as he finished re-gouging his Talutah marked shoulder against the ceremonial deer antler he'd gnawed meaningful designs into during a spare moment with his incisors.
Young Valkis and his whereabouts came to mind and Bane shifted on his paws from the pain and the fact that he hadn't seen the wolf in a worryingly amount of time. The younger male was probably dead. It was saddening, for a wolf attached to the ex-Banished previous pack showing a desire to receive a mark like Bane's. And Rancor's. It was as much of a pity as it was flattering. A shame.

The mark held a lost meaning from a lost pack who's member's remains lay scattered forgotten amidst the frozen ashlands of the north.

But not him.

Bane slowly opened his pained eyes rather slowly and breathed in a lungful of mountain air even as the blood continued to flow down his right foreleg. Good stuff. But something in Seracia was amiss. Several wolves leaving in staggered departures by themselves. But all heading in the same direction.

Maybe that breeze a few moments ago was a howl.

Curiosity made Bane leave with the bloody and stiff shoulder too trail after his Seracian pack-mates the ?distance necessary to reach the conglomerate of wolves amidst the killing fields. The freshly scarred grey wolf ended up next to Epiphron, Maverick's mate. He looked at Gerhardt, he took in Adette's almost haggard form, a glanced being given towards Epiphron and he raised his head to survey the area for the young prince that was, strangely, not by her side. As the first move was made by Adette out of the corner of his wizened eyes he took to looking at other unfamiliar Seracian's and a Glaciem. It was a mistake to move first. Rancor's fangs taught him that.

He didn't want to watch what became of the first blow.