Macabre, like the rest of siblings, had reached the pivotal age of one year. One year in this world, and what a hell of a four seasons it was. Good and bad. He'd forged a bond with his older brother Misery, learning the tools of the trade in both fighting and cleverness. He and Ghoul had sparred, played, schemed and did a lot together as well - having a brotherly connection closely rivaling that of Viscera and Ichor. Still, it was time for him to move on. Pick a rank - lest he be forever labeled a freeloader, a stain on the Klein family. He had a firm idea brewing in his head, rehearsing the title over and over in his mind to make it feel more real, more official. When he finally, really felt complete, ready to shift forward into his duty for his family, his pack, and all that good stuff, the spotted boy reached the foot of the volcano and let out a melodic howl for the pregnant she-wolf.
