The Return Of The Valhallans

The wolves of Valhalla would travel together behind Erani, to the place they would call home, a place that the ones who had been with the pack for a long time would already remember as home. Arwel would pad alongside of them all, his eyes shining brightly. He felt so happy, ears perked and tail wagging lightly behind him. He was coming to a place he would call home. Valhalla was the first pack he had ever been a part of and, come what may, Arwel would make sure it was his last. He would stand beside these wolves, a family he was bound to by loyalty and not blood, new brothers and sisters, and here he would remain for the rest of his days.

Arwel found himself traveling behind a black male with white markings around blue eyes darker than his own {Shilah}. The brute would turn cerulean hues upon him, a friendly smile tugging at his maw. The other bore marks upon his forehead, scars, that had clearly been place there carefully. He knew not what they meant, but it was surely something that symbolized where the other was once from. "It feels good to be coming home with a pack alongside us, doesn't it?"