Beneath the storm

The scent drifting off the ocean spoke of a storm rolling in. The wind was already picking up in strength, sending loose branches and debris skittering through the undergrowth. The deer trail that he had followed for some time now was growing fainter as the dampness on the wind started to cover the scent. Determined, he kept on until the rain began to fall, driving around his form as the wind shook it.

Until at last, the trail was lost to him. With an angry snarl, he turned suddenly from the path. Looking into the woods as his temper began to rise. It would take some time to get back to the pack. In the meanwhile, the storm would only pick up. He would be in the heart of it long before he returned home. The knowledge only further soured his mood.


"Speech"