el tigre

Magnus, like many other before him, had kicked his fluffy ass. His father had told him the man was a warrior, one one that had already impressed the Warlord. So really, what had Mort been thinking, that he could beat him? He chuckled at himself, and took it as a learning experiance. He was happy to follow Mags around any time he got a chance, and learn from the warrior. When the older wolf had proposed a hunting trip, the pup had leaped on it. He was more then happy to follow after the man, looking to him as an authorative figure, more knowledgable in age and experiance.

Mags led him from the pack with the promise of a fishing trip, and took him to a place he had never been before. It was the widest river Mortis had ever seen. The quickly moving water was a tad intimidating, but the boy trusted Mags to keep him safe. He sniffed at the edges, and caught the scent of fish and mud and many things he couldnt identify.

Shortly into their scouting, Mags would point out a pair of paw prints, and the winged boy obediantly dipped his head forward to obsorb the smell. He crinkled his nose. It smelled like Bast, but... not. "Tiger?" He asked, tail swishing behind him in excitement.