In the arms of the Armada

The young white wolf was proving to be affable and resourceful. Stepping in with the coyotes, dragging the prey back home, and joining the Armada without a second thought. His pack, overly saturated with wolves that were not fighters, could sorely use her. “A woman after my own heart” he grinned as agreement once again fell from her lips.

He was a little worn from dragging back the prey, so he rolled and stretched his limbs as he began to walk a short distance away from the Obelisk and cellar, and into the tall grasses. Lotus, it seemed, was eager to get started. She began to circle him almost instantly, and he watched her small form, a grin on his lips. If there was one thing, other then Zee, that the Warlord truly loved, it was fighting.

She rushed at him, and he braced for her attack. He gave her the hit, letting her fangs sink into his elbow. He grunted as her attack landed, already bringing his other paw around in an attempt to buffer the side of her face and knock her off balance. His face darted forward, aiming to grab at her ear with his fangs.