Growl growl

Avacyn found him lying out in the late autumn sun sharpening his switchblades with one of the smooth water stones, surrounded by fallen leaves that matched the colors of his coat. Saracyn hadn't asked any questions when his sister bid him to follow her, simply slipping his wrist blades back on and trudging along behind her up into the mountains. As they headed up, he began to pick up on an unfamiliar scent, nose twitching and nares flared as he sampled the air. There was another predator around here. As if reading his mind, Ava turned to ask if he wanted to fight something big and fuzzy. A curious brow raised above an eye and a wicked grin flashed rows of the young brute's sharklike teeth in a deadly smile. "You know I do," he replied, rolling his shoulders to limber up his body. Any day he got to fight and kill something was a good day in his books.

"Saracyn Mendacium"