Set the traps and stomp the grounds

The Warlord had gotten little sleep that night. Autumn was riddled with rain, and the occasional storm. The worst he had seen yet was the one just past. The entire night had been filled with pounding rain, and he knew there would be flood in the Armada territory. He glumly considered what it would take to drain their firepit, and hoped none of his wolves dens had sprung leakes.

When he pulled himself from the den, the water beneath his small bridge was swollen, and his paws squelched in the mud. He sighed, and turned back to his Wife. “let’s go get some breakfast, before I need to see if anything needs to be repaired” he suggested. Having made it his mission to ensure she was well fed at any opportunity.


"Sirius Fatalis"