Mother Dearest [Destruction]

It had been a few weeks since Destruction had joined Seracia with her son. The two barely got out, mostly sticking to the den she had chosen for them, preferring the company of each other to the company of their new packmates. She hadn't met anyone from her new family and she was content with that. Just because she had decided to join Seracia didn't mean that she wanted to all of a sudden become a social butterfly and start talking to the first wolf she came across.


It was another day in her new home and she'd decided to go out scouting a bit. Before leaving she'd captured a hare and left it in her den for Dillinger when he awoke, in case he happened to be hungry. She'd had a talk with her son before about not leaving the den and made it very clear that he wasn't to leave it without her accompanying him, so when she left him asleep that morning, she expected him to follow her orders. Her new home was strange. There were parts that were forest and other parts that seemed to be some kind of meadow with tall yellow grass that sprouted greenery. The animals that resided within Seracia, some of them anyway, weren't the usual prey she was used to. They were slow, lumbering animals, with giant horns, much longer than any moose or deer she had ever seen. Rumor has it that one of the big male bulls as they called them, had a nasty temper. King Gerhardt was rumored to be building up a hunting party to eliminate the beast, since it threatened the safety of the seracian wolves. Destruction hadn't killed a living thing in some time, so as soon as the king announced the hunt, she would be right at his side, ready to dig her teeth into the beast. After all, she had offspring to look after now.


Speaking of her offspring, a bark that sounded way too familiar rang out not to far from her current position. She would recognize that voice anywhere. Dillinger. What the hell was he doing out of the den? Ivory, crimson ringed orbs narrowed in irriation, powerful limbs carrying the mother to the location of her child, finding him planted before some trees. Dillinger, why are you out of the den? Did I not tell you before you couldn't leave without me? Her voice took on an icy tone, whipcord lashing dangerously behind onyx haunches as she glared at her son, a smaller version of herserlf.


Talk like this