A few steps here. A few steps there. It seemed that the creature didn't mind where he was walking. Everywhere was cursed. Anywhere that he stepped burned under his paws. Metaphorically, of course. if he could really set the rgound ablaze with a single swipe of the paw, the brute would've burned down half of the world by now. But there wasn't a place that he wanted to burn as much as this place. This territory. The familiar scents mingled with the unfamiliar. The terra that he walked upon generally seemed the same as he had seen it two years ago. Those long months ago. Back when he was a prisoner. When he had been the subject to both over protection and complete exposure. Even now he couldn't decide which of the two was worse. His mind raced with memories; thoughts of the past. Trash. Complete garbage. His maw crinkled, digusted with it all. He shoved those thinkings aside, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat as he turn to his left. Changing his direction. His direction of thought.
But this time, when the Beast would try to attack him, he could fight back. Fight back with equal power. He wasn't the weaker one now, and he would never be weak. Black auds flickering, his body stood still. A roaring river plunged and raced in front of him. The tips of the claws on his forepaws were at the very edge of the border between the river and land. Not dry land, necessarily, but land all the same. The cold sensations shivered through the cold, dead skin in his claws, through the quicks, and up through his paws, wrists, arms, and to his spine. A wonderful feeling, to be quite frank. To feel something apart from the usual warmth of the body and fur. And yet it wasn't harmful, not in this degree. Perhaps if he leapt into the water and stayed there long enough, he might risk hypothermia. But he had the brains; he knew sure as hell not to. Even if he did enjoy a nice swim every once in a while, Corren knew better than to risk one's life on a stupid thriller.
Pulled his paws back from the water, Corren cleared his throat. A nice, thorough clearing. His eyes stared sternly at the water with his judging eyes. Golden eyes. Beautiful. Rolling his shoulders, he could feel the uneven skin there. His scar. His shame. His past. Maw crinkling, his blood flared. Cor did not dwell fondly upon such a branding of embarassment. But he made sure to clean there as briskly as he could, ensuring that his pelt covered the healed wound. Healed or not, the evidence was there. The memory of the horrors. Even though he may be a monster, the same species as the Beast, he took on his natural appearance. The body of a wolf. A true wolf. Not the horrid human-like walkings, nor the mutated wolves. Disgraceful. He only moprhed when necessary - to defend himself or bring down prey. he had honor. Decency. . .
Aw hell. Who was he fooling?