Scraps

He nodded his head briskly, like that was that. He did not yet know if this woman would be the right fit for his pack, but he was not leaving her behind. He hadn’t decided what he might do with her if she wasn’t the right fit - give her some supplies and send her on her way, perhaps. The Warlord could be unreasonable, but he still had some lines left.

He knelt beside her and placed a paw over her chained ankle. Testing the strength of it with a tug. Good metal. The Warlord was not strong enough to simply break the chains. Not without a great deal of effort, and likely a lot of pain to the girl. He turned his attention next to the stake. Here he would have better luck. He hooked the chain so it ran from the ground, over his back, and then towards the girl. “I will try not to put any pressure on you, but brace yourself” He hooked his fangs and paw through a loop, and began to heave.

The stake began to lift from the ground, and then pulled free suddenly. He just about toppled backwards onto the girl at the lack of resistance, but caught himself just on time. “You can not walk, not as far as we need to go. Not in the state you're in.” He turned back to her. The chains still dug into her coat, but he would have more time and space to deal with them back at home. In fact, he was pretty sure Mort’s Kea would have better luck then he would. ”I’m going to carry you” he warned.


"Sirius Fatalis"