A creature born of blood and carnage, Bronze was destined to return to it. The battlefield was not pleasant, not like it used to be; the stench of blood and rot was not at all alluring, and yet the elder male found his paws carrying him there regardless of his intentions. Beneath his creamy tan pelt, power muscles rippled with each step, shaped from years of use. The brute was lucky that his outward appearance did not betray the fatigue he felt so often; the pain that was beginning to seep into his joints as winter drew nearer. Though his muscles were slowly deteriorating, he still had the appearance of a seasoned warrior. His coat was littered with scars; not just one or two, but dozens, enough to show that he had likely lived when he ought to have died. His stance was unassuming as he wandered across the vast expanse of flat terrain. One step after another he carried himself forth, his mind as empty as his dark brown gaze. Bronze was not seeking a fight, instead he wanted to remember. Much of his younger years were a blur, and he found his mind slipping often as he grew older. Remembering was painful, but necessary. His eyes drifted over the eyes of a tattered carcass of a wolf. His eyes closed and he involuntarily tensed his body as he paused in his tracks. It reminded him of Apollo, his only son -- he'd let the boy slip away from him and had found him like this. He could not fail his children so badly again. He refused to disappoint them. After a long moment he continued on again, slowly padding across the land. Overhead the sun hung directly overhead, signifying that the day was about halfway over. How had he gotten here? As the brute shifted, turning in a circle, he realized he did not know how to return home. As the sun set, he could navigate toward his family, but he felt sudden confusion overwhelm him -- the feeling was unfamiliar and upsetting. He knew he wasn't the young wolf he used to be, but he suddenly felt confused and panicked -- and wished rather badly he was at home in his den, snuggled up alongside his mate and children. But instead he found himself wandering aimlessly in this godforsaken land, growing quickly irritated. Old age was beginning to set in, and the frustrating part was that he did not know why he felt suddenly confused, didn't understand that his mind would begin to deteriorate as he began to grow even older..

It would seem the dame wasn't the only on here this darkening evening, for it took her a few hours to reach this place. Where she had hopelessly beat another into the ground, one that had been little more then a whelp in her eyes. Pah, they had a lot to learn and far more growing up to do before they were worth a damn thing to her. If she ever had a litter her self, she wouldn't tolerate such behavior from them, no, they would be beat due to it. Her method weren't for the light hearted, they would be exceptionally lucky not to meet her wrath. If they were behaved and good little whelps they wouldn't have to worry over a beating from their mother, that was if they didn't end up being cannibalized by her as soon as they were born.

"Lost old timer?" The lyrics fell from her lips as the dame stepped into the dying light and into the view of the elder and obviously lost male. Whatever was happening to him looked to be caused by old age, she had seen it a few times. Their mind disintegrating with their age, forgetting things and becoming disorientated as time passed on; sometimes turning violent and others completely forgetting who they were and standing on a cliffs edge into insanity.

The stench of destruction called to him, oh so tantalizing and seductive. He had promised himself he would never again return to his former ways, to blood and death, for the sake of his children and his mate. And yet the darkness settled over him as the idly gazed at the carnage that existed here, making his skin crawl and his senses heighten. And yet these feelings were mixed with confusion and worry, and his mind raced with paranoia as he went... The voice of another reached his ears, which twitched in annoyance. His lips curled slightly, head swinging to meet her gaze. The sun was slowly settling, and it took him a moment to really see the woman. "Does it matter to you?" Bronze questioned sharply, quite obviously irritated by her question. Despite his age, he still stood his ground -- not looking quite frail, but not quite as strong as he had once been. Behind him his tail would whip out threatening, his poise becoming more guarded as he shifted.