prodigal son

Wendigo breathed in deeply through his nose, drawing scents in before letting the breath back out in a pleased sigh. It was just his imagination, he knew, that made the air here smell sharper and more clear. Home. Not the lands he'd grown up in, not exactly, not even the same continent but his paws hadn't touched either of those old familiar continents in long enough that it all felt like home to him.

It was good to be back.

He'd been traveling for some time away from the continents he'd grown up in, since his father died and Eligos had disbanded them from some weird religious epiphany or other. He'd done a lot of growing since then. Physically, yes, he was considerably larger and stronger than he'd been when he left, but also mentally, emotionally. He'd grown in skill. He'd matured. Over time, Wendigo had come to realize what a treasure they'd been given in his father's legacy. The strength and cunning they'd inherited, the rich history in the stories Chaos had given them before his death. He'd decided that he couldn't really turn his back on that and let their name fade away, and so after all this time he'd finally returned. At the thought, a pleased grin bared fangs and lolled his tongue out.

He was here to reclaim that legacy. These continents would know his name.