The More We Flare

Spyridon Russo · 08-11-2010, 02:46 PM

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He was nervous; an emotion he was not yet familiar with. From what he could remember, Fayina always reminded him that Russo’s were bred strong and fearless wolves. But one could believe so much more when they were just a pup. The thunder had dulled and the lightening was a decrepit streak against the mountains now; their white caps covered in gray wisps of clouds. Door slightly ajar now, Spyridon caught scent of another wolf. No doubt the leader, he thought. She was a female by the fragrance streaming through the door along with raindrops and leaves from the storm. The male could see his cousins back and broad shoulder but nothing of the Inferni leader. Silas spoke to her gently – but then again it could be the pounding of the rain drowning out their voices.

The Russian strung his hands together and stood, pushing the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder. Looking out the window for the first time, the Russo could see something of a pond or a pool, but impossible to distinguish for the windows were a magnet for water and there was fog covering the whole radius of the water hole. His brow furrowed, wondering what else he might find in this retreat for wolves. So far the ones he met were a luperci, bold and proud of showing his optime for. But this included his cousin, who came from a family bred with the body. Another shiver went down his spine as an unusually close blade of lightening crackled behind him. He could almost feel the electricity on his back as it lightened his black fur and shimmered its true color; red.

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