Old threads

It had been a while since the scent of one of his wolves had strayed further than their den. Considering the scars the long night had left on wolves, as well as this wolf's unfortunate history, it was well past time the Warlord checked in.

He made his way to Magnus’s den, a peace offering of a freshly caught hare in his maw as he made his way to the entrance. Placing it lightly on the ground before scratching at the door to announce himself. “Magnus?” he asked softly into the dim lighting. It was hard not to remember the wolf that had stood at his side, a leader in his pack once upon a time, when he saw the shadow of who his old friend had become.


"Sirius"