misery loves company

His presence had clearly been unexpected, as the second Romulus spoke, the brown wolf gave a start and turned to face him. He offered a wry, apologetic smirk; he hadn't intended to scare the younger wolf, especially not when the world was doing a good enough job of that on its own. The stranger admitted that he didn't want to be out here on his own, and Roman gave him a curious glance and asked, "Then why are you?" The yearling was a guest of the Hallows from what he could tell. So why was he standing just beyond the walls in the dark on his own? Was he trying to prove his bravery or something?

"Neither have I," he muttered in agreement. "It's not natural." He briefly thought back to the glowing bats and army of spectral wolves he'd seen the other night with Lillith from their balcony. Up above the plains, he'd felt safe. But now he was standing on the same ground those ghost lupines had stood on. Were he and this other wolf in grave danger being out here? The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as a cold breeze whispered gently past them, and Roman could swear he heard a voice on the breeze. Steely eyes scanned over the fog and the distant fireflies, nerves tense as he sought to look for those glowing eyes that had left ice in his veins.

As if on cue, the wind picked up, sounding almost like a phantom's howl, and then ahead of the two wolves in the mist formed the silhouette of a wolf. Piercing blue eyes glowed at them from the darkness, staring down both young men. Romulus bared his teeth in a silent snarl; he knew that once one formed, more would inevitably be on the way.

"Romulus Armada"