Wolves were worthless. They were less than wicked—they were nothing. Even so, few creatures held worth in his eyes. Kaena was one. He was another. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt respect or affection for any other living creature. Halo had held potential, but in the end everything broke apart. He was meant to destroy himself as much as he was destined to destroy the world. He was intended to combust.
The terrain was rocky and jagged, just as he preferred it. He couldn’t stand the forest with all of its trees, veiling demons within every shadow, and he couldn’t stand anything remnant of humanity. He needed to be able to see. Perhaps it was his time in the desert that had instilled such a bizarre claustrophobia within him. Wide, open expanses of wilderness had become his home—the gold of his pelt easily camouflaging against sand and low brush.
Were the area devoid of snow the white she-wolf would have contrasted sharply with the landscape. Even so, he froze when he saw her, watching cautiously, curiously with bloodred eyes.