Set directly after '<a href='http://relic-lore.net/index.php?showtopic=3207&hl=' target='_blank'>i will destroy you</a>'.
<blockquote>It was more of an effort to drag the bobcat to the middle of the territory than it had been to kill it in the first place. Sides heaving, Marsh finally dropped the corpse, his muzzle red from the fresh wounds which still bleed freely from his victim's throat and chest. He had cleaned it in the river not minutes before, not that you could tell anymore. Panting, he surveyed the corpse for a moment, wondering what his packmates would make of it. Some might turn their noses up at the flesh of another predator, and he would not blame them for it; winter was setting in, it was true, but the pack was far from starving yet. Besides, he had not killed the cat directly to fill their bellies. It had been for their safety, for his own satisfaction, but also to make a point. With Indru gone, and Marsh being all but forced to accept the role, it concerned him how different his manner was to the pack in general. It was a thing that had only bothered him peripherally before, mostly due to worries that they would not be able to accept him, but those days were over. He considered Swift River home, and they saw him as their ally, which was all how it should be. But their leader? He could lift his tail and grab their muzzles and act the part, but wolves here were not wholly content with that alone. They wanted to be spoken to, comforted with words, gathered together to listen to wise teachings or announcements or anything else that they really should be able to figure out on their own. He accepted that. It didn't mean he could give it to them.
He could give them this, though. He could keep the borders stinking of his presence, he could chase away anyone foolish enough to come close, and he could slaughter their foes. He could protect them, keep them fed, and keep them safe. All he wanted in return was that they do the same. He had killed the bobcat because it was fun, but also because he needed to know that he was at least partially capable of the role that had been thrust upon him. Corinna could handle the nuances of leadership, the inspiring presence and everything that she and Indru were good at. Marsh would do what he was good at, which, perhaps, were some of things that Indru himself had failed to do. Consistency. Transparency. Marsh didn't keep secrets - he <i>had</i> no secrets - and he would not leave them. Until the day that he died or was challenged out of his role, or Corinna dictated that he step down, he would try to fill that role as best as he could.
Licking some of the blood from his lips, he turned about and lifted his head, issuing a soft call to his packmates. He wanted them to see the bobcat, see this promise that he had made to them. If they wanted to eat it, then they were welcome to. Marsh just needed to be in their presence, to stand with them, and to know that they were truly stronger this way. It was bad enough that he be forced to consider himself an equal to Corinna. He could not bear to fail his pack in anything else.
Once, he had needed Indru's acceptance, had been torn apart when he had been denied it. Suddenly, the tables had turned, and it was all different. It should have been <i>Indru</i> begging for <i>his</i> love and devotion.
And so he waited, soft hope in his expression, tail raised and swaying from side to side.</blockquote>