Old threads

The Warlord blinked in surprise as Magnus’s companion came forth in his steed, and passed on a warning. Magnus remembered all. He remembered why he had left the Armada? The wrong he had done the pack? The Warlords reasoning for allowing him back in had been flimsy. He was badly injured when the Warlord had dragged him back here, and it wasn’t long before they realised his memory was gone. He was a different wolf, a broken one. So the Warlord had kept him on, and the days had bled into each other, and for the most part the Warlord had let him be. In honour of who he had once been. The Warlord’s right hand.

Who would he be now? Some meld of the broken wolf the Warlord had saved, and the wolf that had stood in a position of power over the Armada? Or something entirely new.

He frowned at the African Wild dog, and nodded once sharply. Whoever Magnus was, he would take it in stride. He pushed past the companion, and into the den. “Magnus” He said sharply. “Your wallowing has gone on long enough”


"Sirius"