burning black and gold

His last foray into the battlefield had left Citadel bursting with confidence. He’d battled an adult, and he had won. Granted, they’d slipt, but that was just details. He belonged on this barren field, with the scent of old blood in his sensors. He slipped away from his home once more, his consequences for leaving the pack never seemed to outweigh the adventures he had.

When he trotted along the field, his raven let out a caw, calling his attention to another wolf that stood ready and waiting for combat. He followed the bird's cry, and it led him to a tall yearling with a fascinating rack of antlers across their brow. “Neat whip!” He said as he came to a stop in front of them, his tail flicking behind him in anticipation.