tales of a world gone wrong

To the massive dire wolf prowling the old orchard, the world that had always seemed to be a drab pile of shit had spontaneously come to life in a whole new way. Perhaps it was the numerous brushes with death he’d encountered during the nighttime apocalypse that had swallowed the world for a whole season. Perhaps it was the newfound appreciation for how sunlight felt on his fur or fresh air tasted in his lungs. Whatever it was, Sitka had never felt more alive than he did right now. His silver and earthen brown fur seemed to glow in the afternoon sun, massive paws crunching fresh spring grass beneath his toes, a gentle late seasonal breeze tousling his coat just right. Sometimes the beauty of Boreas was lost of the heathen. Sometimes he could appreciate it. Today would be the latter it seemed.

Sauntering leisurely through the orchard thick with blooming apple trees, Sitka gazed around his surroundings, partly out of idle curiosity, and partly out of caution. He knew he was close to pack lands here, and the last thing he wanted was to be caught unawares by a less than friendly welcome. If he was getting into a scuffle, he wanted the upper hand always. Being as large as he was, the dire brute’s form was barely obscured through the trunks of the trees as he walked. Everything was so peaceful and quiet right now… a little too much so. It bored Sitka, and when the renegade got bored, he usually found himself in a fun bit of trouble.

And speaking of trouble, it came as a subtle perfume on the wind. The scent of a wolf—a fae at that—somewhere nearby. Sitka’s muzzle tipped up to sample the air, an intrigued rumble in his chest while his nostrils flared. Other than Lorikeet, it had been a while since he’d met another wolf that didn’t want to kill him on sight. That wasn’t to say this stranger wouldn’t try, but that was all part of the fun, wasn’t it? Changing direction, the massive brute began to follow the scent through the orchard, finding her resting on a small hill near the edge of the orchard. She was a lovely blonde color with brassy highlights in that wheat-colored coat. Her eyes were like a more vivid version of his own, bright and saturated where his were cool and very nearly a gray.

"Lady," he greeted her in his rough, husky tones, dipping his head as he created the hill near her. "You look a mite bored. I can’t rightly let that stand." He cocked a wry smirk her way as he brought his hulking form to have a seat near her on the hilltop.

"Sitka Thánatos"