Life is strange... (Roman)

The man had been keeping himself busy enough, meeting a few new wolves along the way but nothing too severe for his mind to handle. He had been keeping a steady breathing pattern as he ran through the forest of red trees preparing for winter as his feet crunched as they grazed the snow. It was a form of exercise, training, stamina gains even could be classified under what he was doing. He was running around the borders, all of them, as fast as he could for as long as he could. He couldn't stop thinking about several facts. One, Roman seemed to trust him because of a question he had asked on the borders. Two, he was a Tortuga wolf now but he couldn't stop thinking about Kingslanding and how things were going there. Three, he was hungry.


His stomach rumbled as he had not bothered eating for a while, but not too long to where he needed food. That was the thing, he took things only when he needed it and only took what he needed in the process. He wasn't going to play any games, he was sworn to not play any games. With that thought about not playing games he remembered the constant power struggle which he came to know as 'the game of thrones' which all the highborn wolves played. It costs lives that were not meant to be taken. The Targaryen king, Robert Baratheon, Eddard Stark. They had all been men, who he had no doubt some deserved death, that had lost their lives from the power struggle.


He struggled to get back into focus as he skidded to a halt right in front of a tree. His eyes closed for a second as he took a deep breathe. He sat down and stared at the sky, examining the stars above.