Gonna draw your last breaths, at the end of our Mek’Leths

Dread has, on at least one occasion, been viewed as mini-Sirius. The Armada wolves create a sea of darkness, the likes of which can blot out the sun. Long shadows they cast, the creature moves as one of them. His head was high, gaze keen. Gaze ever so keen-- he needed to find her. Dread wants to be the one to take her on. Maybe it's pride, he'd lost their last last scrape. Maybe it's the fact that he knows his siblings will go harder on her. Maybe it's because he wants to touch her again. Maybe it's so he can show his dad that he'll still take this seriously. Regardless, Dread seeks Deluge.

And it seems she's sought him first. He can feel her antlers clip his shoulder, and he gives a low growl. His head tossed. Dread's head dropped, and he moved into Deluge's space with several large, intentional steps. He wouldn't be put on the ground this time, and instead moves to tangle his foreleg with hers. Trying to trip Deluge up, and trying to be as in her space as possible. Vying for control, and making quick work of it. Nowhere has the boy tried to cause pain, instead just making an effort to manhandle.

"speech"