Oi Fishface!

He had moved south without any real purpose, simply wandering away from the north with no particular destination in mind. By chance he had found himself in his birthplace, more drawn by the smell of rotting fruit than the memories that came with the land beneath his paws. When he arrived however it was a different story. He had found himself overcome with a wave of nostalgia and rather than get properly drunk as he had originally intended Rogdar simply sat beneath one of the pear trees.

Eura distracted herself by scaling the branches and helping herself to the fresher fruit still among the higher points of the tree. He gave a lamented sigh, his ear flicking away at a fly that had taken apparent interest in him. He wondered what his father would say if he knew that he had fallen in under his old leader by sheer dumb luck but somehow he knew he would be proud. He wondered if Chaos would change the northern pack to match the pack his father had lived in and silently, he hoped he would. Niente had been too stuffy for his taste, far too concerned with propriety rather than living freely. If Chaos was half the man his father had said he’d been it boded well for him.