Death begets death

It was sometime past late when the red-toned wolf trotted into the veteran’s plateau. It had been a long trek from where his band had made beach on this strange, foreign soil. But once he had started his trott, he hadn’t been included to stop it. Here, here was something new. A fresh start. Here at last he had seen his chance to shed the weights of the past that had been holding him down.

He could still scent their blood, hear their shocked cries. Why! why was he betraying them? They would never understand his answer. He wasn’t entirely sure that he did, except for finding for himself the chance to choose. choice was something that had been denied to him for so long. He intended to reveal in it, to enjoy this new freedom in whichever manner he wished.

He was both tired from the long walk, and electric and alive from all that had happened. The night sky had at some point turned into something strange, and colourful. A shimmering light that danced in the air above him. There was the faint scent of strangers around him. Always strangers, only strangers. He had only newness in front of him now. He was desperate to let out some steam, to shake out the energy in his veins. He lifted his head and rolled out a challenge.

WC: 232/1500


"Speech"