just rub some dirt on it

As the boy slunk back, Zagan crept forward- each step precise and measured- a predator's grace that moved with ease. The quiet confidence of a wolf who satiated his depravities. His curiosity.

“Atoll.” He hums, rolling the boy’s name inside of his maw- tasting it. Feeding off it. But there is an unsatisfied gleam in Zagan’s eyes- a crack in his polished exterior- a thirst for lacking knowledge. What was the boy’s surname?

In his contemplation, there is a subtle tilt of his head- as if he’s measuring the boy’s worth. It’s a smooth, and effortless motion- an assessment that came naturally to Zagan- a manifestation of his arrogance. "Is your grandmother the Raid Queen?" He recalls his encounter with Mercy, who claimed to be related to the alpha of the Raiders. And this boy didn't seem so far off in age. Perhaps a sibling?

His tail flicks behind him, and there is a subtle shift in his pelt- the rows of razor-sharp quills standing partially erect around his nape- a silent form of entitlement. “Zagan Saxe.” He boasts his surname with pride. “Heir to The Syndicate throne.” Truly, it was useless information to the boy- but to Zagan it was everything. His motivator. His purpose. He would become the next Imperial, and rise to the role of Sultan. He was certain of it.

He didn’t care for Atoll’s reasoning for collecting the moss. But his mention of a fire worm. Now that was intriguing. “Where was this fire worm?” His mind is reeling, recalling information gathered from his packmates. Rhazien, Ezekiel, Dracun, and Ravana encountered a vile, worm-like creature in the North. But it was shrouded in ice, emerging from the depths of the S.S. Antiox. Could there be a connection between the two monstrosities?

"Zagan Saxe"