A Warlord's Welcome

The wolf was small, but not as tiny as others he had come to know. There were hints of scars across her skin, pockmarks of fur where the scar tissue stood out too strong for her coat to grow back. She had been harshly used at some point in her life. The sight of it brought a darkening to the Warlords' eyes. Now that she was his, she would never be ill-used again in her life. If those that had hurt her ever sought her out, they would find nothing but death at the ends of his fangs.

The pricetvie instinct was stronger then it had been only a year past. Wife and Children had softened him, mallowed him out. No longer did he agree that wolves should know pain to learn. There were lines, and Zee had taught him where they stood. Zee, his wife. She had put claim to this wolf, and for her he would doubly ensure this wolf's protection.

“I did. You’ve already met my Wife, Zee” he explained to her, softening his stance so she would not be frightened. “I’m Sirius, the Warlord here. How are you settling in?” the pleasantries felt stiff on his lips, but he uttered them regardless.