I’m not cut out for this

Wilder was a good enough hunter, a great tracker, but a fighter he was not. While he could keep his belly full, he couldn’t protect his skin to well, save his damn life. After scoring a perfectly sized turkey to fill his belly as winter arrived, someone else had been watching him.

Feline eyes, starved and desperate, watched from the shadows until Wilder was fully distracted. A single pounce from the trees and the cougar was atop Wilder in a moment. Claws were able to scour his form before he could fend the damn thing off of him. Barely escaping with his life, he managed to at least keep his turkey for himself.

Bleeding, weak, and definitely in need of help, Wilder takes himself  and said turkey to the Armada borders. They were the closest pack he could scent and surely, they wouldn’t mind another to join their ranks. Toeing the line, he lifts his chin and calls out for someone to come and greet him. At least he’d brought a gift!

WILDER