Life in the Armada still felt strange for Mortis. It was like he didn’t know where he fit in, anymore. Truthfully, he hadn’t known for a long time. But he was determined to put in the effort and do what he could to make this feel more like home. With that in mind, when he heard Basilisk call out for a hunt, he responded immediately. Putting down the knife he had been sharpening, and storing it carefully to the side. It wouldn’t do for someone to trip over it.
He rose to his paws and shook out his wings, before heading to the woods at a trott. He wondered what pray Basilisk had in mind for them, and how many wolves would show up. Perhaps he would see some new faces.
Marauder
