The Wildwood Hellhounds

This place had sad stories in it, Kainda could feel it. And she wasn't about to make any good story to these grounds, they would just get all her bitterness, share it with her and feel what it was like to live her life. Oh yes, they would feel her anger, her hate towards the world. <i>'But fairy, don't you see the blood on you muzzle? Lick it! Drink it! Blood, blood!'</i> the voice in her head spoke, breaking into an malicious laugh. Her eternal companion, that voice filled with evilness. Its desires so bloody.

Walking under the snowy branches, her heavy steps leaving deep marks to the white snow. Kainda needed to hunt, but she didn't like hunting at all. It was a miracle she ahd stayed in very good conidtion through her loner travels. But soon she would probably need to find a home, a pack to join in. Somewhere here had to be packs, right?

Her scarred head hanged low, scarred feet carrying her forward, scarred body moving ahead. Thick, messy fur, tooth sticking form her mouth, that all made her to be very uncomfortable with herself. And the voice in her head kept reminnding her about her not so flattering outlook. If she could've attacked the voice, Kaid would've done it without hesitation and killed it. That voice ahd made her a killer, bloodhound, hellhound, like any other Wheatear. At least she wasn't disgrace to her linegae. Snorting, releasing a small cloud to the cold air, Kaid kept moving onward.

<blockquote>It was important to keep moving, to keep busy. With the snow had come a sort of quiet peace, but a peace which sat I'll with the beast. Swift River was so calm, so steady as compared to every pack and group he had ever been a part of. In a way, it was welcome, for he was ageing, and a slow, easy retirement could have been a welcome thing. But Marsh was not a slow, easy creature. There had been instances of trouble, moments when he was required. In the same old ways he had been used to, but they were few and far between. He was guard dog and protector, now, until the day came when his rank was stripped by death, battle or disgrace. Even then, he would serve Corinna and Indru, and their offspring, to the last.

Scarred legs took the scarred beast forward, head low and ears pointed, always alert. He had crossed the pack's borders in order to search beyond the well-hunted lands for something else. Rodents and the like made up much of his diet now,and his attention was focused intently on ground-level for any sign of such a meal.

The sound of nearby footsteps made him pause. Somewhere, a wolf snorted, and Marsh's instincts were twofold - though defensiveness came out top, for they were not wholly far from Swift River. That besides, he was a coil slowly and steadily tightened, the tension building through disuse. A low growl rumbled in his chest, but it quickly died, and he chose instead to press towards the sound, jaws open, ready to give a warning bark if necessary. As yet, his stance was neutral bordering on wary, aggressive, the dominance in his body reduced to match the fact that he had no real authority out here, beyond the pack. Tail a horizontal banner behind him, he sought the strange wolf.</blockquote>