Daredevils

As he did at the start of every day, Artorias sat atop the high castle walls, facing out towards the western sea. Behind him, the morning sun had begun to break over the dawn sky, casting away the blacks and navies of night for muted purples and pastel pinks across a cloudless sky. A cool autumnal breeze rippled through the alpha's coat, stinging in his nares with every deep breath he drew in, held, and then released. These deep breathing meditations had been a part of his morning ritual since the day he'd nearly killed Sirius in his rage. Since then, Artorias had grown tremendously as a wolf—he understood himself better, understood how to manage his flaws and bolster his strengths. It took effort, but it was effort the young brute was willing to put in.

With fiery amber eyes hidden behind black eyelids, Artorias focused on his breathing. Inhaling in, holding, holding, and exhaling. His mind was calm, blank, focused on the distant sounds of the waves. He was acutely aware of the feeling of the cold stone beneath his paws and rump, the wind in his fur, the beat of his heart. Amber eyes slowly opened; he was ready for his day. Next on the agenda: physical exercise. And that translated into running laps around the castle walls for Artorias. Rising to his paws, the dark-furred wolf began his series of stretches, making sure every joint was limber, every muscle loose and ready. This early in the morning, he wasn't expecting anyone else to be up and about besides the morning patrols, so he was preparing for another solo run.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"