Stolen Away In The Dead of Night

The Warlords patrol had taken him to the border where the scent of Isa and strangers mingled. Confused and concerned, he had followed the trail and found her coat, discarded in the undergrowth without a care. He remembered how possessive she had been of the cloak. Worried to leave it behind, least another take it. He held the cloak beneath his muzzle as rage overtook him.

It wasn’t the first time that wolves had thought to take what belonged to him. That time, it had taken him far too long to realise what had happened. His Zee… His Zee had suffered in their paws for months before he had rescued her. Isa would not know the same pain. He tossed her coat over his shoulders, though it wasn’t made for his broad back. He tied it securely so he would not lose her coat, and took off after the trail.

The rain began to fall as he left the Armada territory. The darkened sky lit up in sudden, bright intensity as a flash of lightning struck the sky. It was some time before the thunder rumbled in its wake. Telling him the storm was still a distance off. But, judging by the rain, it would find them.

It was difficult to track beneath the outpour, but he sent out Marshal, Bast, and Bear. Each following the direction the trail had hinted at before the rain had swept it away. It was Bast that returned with news. She had seen flashes of colour - wolf coats, in the caves just off the territory by the Armada beach. Changing course, the Warlord followed his companion. Arriving at the caves as another flash of lightning struck. Reflecting on the whites of his markings, and the whites in his angry eyes. It lit up, also, the guard on duty at the cave. There, there she was. He saw a flash of her familiar coat on the stone floor. He opened his mouth, and a rolling roar fell off his tongue. Anger. Possessive, and white hot as he charged into the cave without a thought to tactical advantage.


"Speech"