Never Truly Beaten
12-07-2013, 06:41 PM
Aros' wanderings had taken him far and wide across this strange land. He had met a pawful of others, each so widely varied that it was hard to believe they were all wolves. Of course at the moment he had no idea at all where he was or what he should be doing, certainly not where he was going. And yet his paws continued to move, one in front of the other, plowing through the snow and grasses, over rolling hills. He was not a tall wolf, but his legs were powerful and made for traversing mountains, bringing down foes. Surely he could handle this, right? As if he had a choice. He was on a mission, the mission. Until he returned home with a worthy mate he was not truly a man, not truly a warrior. His two brothers had been able to set out a moon before him while he healed, surely they had returned long ago. Aros narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth in anger and frustration. It wasn't his fault! He didn't ask the damned stag to charge him, he hadn't asked his ribs to fracture. It had made a good meal, and the meat had tasted sweet, but not enough to mask his bitter envy. Was he shaming his family? Had they already cast his name from the Clan? Surely they wouldn't do something like that, surely they would give him a chance. It had hardly been a year after all, and he was certain no wolf of the Ysgarion Clan had ventured as far as he had. As abruptly as slamming into a wall he hit a patch of scent, and his head flew up, looking about. Fool! he thought to himself. Letting yourself be caught off guard. When his eyes lit upon the scent's source he relaxed a bit. A female, and a young one at that. He nodded cordially to her, wondering if she would be as strange and unusual as the others had been. "Greetings," was all he could be bothered to say, and he did not break his stride. "Speech," Thoughts, |