oh the misery

Basilisk was quickly coming to see that this young wolf was not one for talking. At his question, she moved slightly, displaying her injured leg a little more clearly. She also nudged at the rabbit. Bringing his attention to its limp form. A hunting wound, then? Not unheard of, and dangerous for a loner that needed to rely on their own skills to survive

“I see.” He said thoughtfully. He looked over the little wolf before him. She was young yet, and would need some feeding to grow to her full size. She must be out here alone, or her injury would have been seen to already. “If you want to eat this winter, and that wound tented to, you will join my pack. The Armada” He told her, it was an invitation, but only barely. It lingered between an invitation and an instruction.


"Basilisk"