Rain lashed the world outside the caves, fierce winds whipping through grasses and tattering the new spring leaves with their fury. Better than in some areas of the continent, but not a storm to be out in nonetheless.
Not far within the sheltered confines, out of reach of wind and rain but still where he could see what little light there was entering the cave, shivered Tyr. Soaked and achy, he had taken refuge in the caves to wait out the storm as long as he could. He would have to venture back out soon, though. The dampness and chill had settled in his leg; not much of a hunter at the best of times, the added pain meant that he'd not had a meal in some time.
For a moment Tyr considered whether it had been the best idea to leave his family pack. Yes, he'd been the omega, the abused, the mistreated, but he'd had semi-regular meals, a sheltered den, and the warmth of his family on cold nights.
But he quickly dismissed the doubts. Those semi-regular meals had been the leavings, the worst bits of every kill the pack made. The sheltered den? The space under a rotted log that everyone else was too small to fit in. And the warmth of his family was a rare, rare thing, since he had always been left to hover on the outskirts of any family gathering. His father wouldn't have had it any other way. No, he was better off on his own. Better a aching stomach here than the bruises and bites and heartache of his family.
The patch-coated wolf curled tighter, his thin tail curved over his muzzle. He'd just have to wait out the storm. Then all would be well.
"Speech"
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