in the club, we turn it up

Only a fool would interfere in the fight of two creatures of nature, and a bigger fool would choose to join them. But Cadaver, be it foolhardy or merely curious, found himself inexplicably drawn to the spectacle that in his mind, was more of an intriguing dance than a clash of beasts. The black and white of his fur made him a conspicuous spectator, standing out against the damp greens and browns that surrounded the river bank.

The hippo, its grey hide glistening with water and sweat as it writhed under the attacks from the wolves, was desperately trying to fight back. One wolf managed to dodge its snapping jaws while another attacked its flank only to retreat swiftly under the animal’s furious response. It was a spectacle of raw, untamed nature that drew out something primeval within Cadaver.

The young wolf felt a surge of adrenaline; he enjoyed the thrill of danger, the bloodlust that specked in the air. And he particularly delighted in moments where he had control over it. The hippo was immense, possibly even bigger than himself, but to him, size wasn't anything more than an illusion of power. True power came from exerting dominance over others—making them dance to his tune. With a guttural growl emanating from his massive chest, Cadaver charged into the fray.

"Cadaver Nightwing"