a trophy father's trophy son

Keeping the bear's attention was a risky endeavour, and the Warlord was glad when Dread’s teeth closed on the bear's throat, tearing it with a splatter of gore. The bear crumpled beneath them, and the Warlord twisted, leaping free of the carcass. He was shaking some of the blood from his own coat when his son's voice filled the space between them.

Looking up, his gaze shifted back and forth as he assessed Dread. “I’m fine. That was a good blow, Dread.” He said, taking a few steps forward, and clasping a paw against Dread’s shoulder. “Well done. Just don’t go getting any ideas. It’s dangerous to take a bear alone.” He warned.


"Sirius Fatalis"