red right hand

Plague had been all over the place in the past months. With the birth of new pups and things seemingly calm in the world Plague felt the desire to adventure. He was a year old and it was his right to explore. Previously the boy only encountered pack mates or maybe someone from the Armada. But lately he made it a point to fight his own social reservations and put himself out there to talk to strangers. Encountering those from other walks of life would only bring forth knowledge and experience that could help in the long run. Though he was not traveling so far from Ashen to merely chit chat... Plague ventured to the battlefield to get some sparring in.

Pads kissed the earth with ease as the Abraxas-Klein weaved through the ruins. The soil smelled of blood, decay, and dread. Yet, the yearling marched on. Despite his deepening anxieties the male was hardly ever truly afraid of anything. He could be consumed by worry or a flush of emotions but pain didn't do much for him. In fact the pain of sparring and training seemed to burry his mental ailments quite well, for now.

After finding a good clearing Plague lifted his head into the air and let forth a howl. He summoned forth anyone who desired a fight; spar or perhaps more.