Sorry for the delay, I missed putting this in my post log. :[ Won't happen again!

A call from directly south of his current position drew Gabriel’s patrol to a halt. He lifted his head to the air, but the wind was against him. With a grunt, the Aquila turned and was moving again, loping towards the borders in the languid pace of a wolf. It was apparent he did not truly belong among the coyotes. Still he wore their crown and defended the land with a stubbornness that was almost madness. In a very real way, it was. Inferni alone had kept him alive—not his family, whom had either abandoned or turned against him, not his now-dead enemy, not even God. Inferni. Inferni alone was to what Gabriel owed his life.

Next to one of the sun-bleached skulls was a large black wolf. Gabriel was not intimidated by his size, but he respected it none the less. The man had a yellow mark on his face and, as the wind turned for a moment, carried the scent of Crimson Dreams. As far as Gabriel was concerned that pack and his own were neutral. They were not allies, not truly, for the most interaction he had with them was through Anu. Perhaps she had sent someone herself, unable to travel. Maybe she was hurt. His eyes darkened momentarily but there was no anger in them as he neared.

“Can I help you?” His gruff voice asked.

Yay for us!

The bloodline that had given birth to Gabriel was a muddled one. It was made up of vicious hybrids, from his mother’s side, all warriors and hellspawn themselves. His father’s wolves were themselves mad, things descended from dogs who had gone wild, things that broke in two in order to survive. Perhaps it was madness that had let the fear leave him—the fear had left when Haku had died—but Gabriel no longer feared for his own life. He feared for Inferni, and for what would come after him, but not for himself. He had no right. His path had been laid out before him by God.

Gabriel had seen the look that crossed through the wolf’s sunny colored eyes. Sizing up the Aquila, determining he was not a coyote, not a wolf, not a dog. He was a mongrel leading a clan of miscreants that had long since forgotten its place. Inferni was once strong and terrible. They were growing back to this now, only after so many had come and so many more had fallen. Yet the brute remained stoic, used to the prying eyes. Luckily the wolf was not here on ill-business and remained polite, as he should around any leader.

Eyeing Jazper (funny, his half-brother came to mind) the coy-wolf remained as unreadable as ever. “You’re lucky, then,” he began. “I am Inferni’s leader, Gabriel.” He did not offer his surname. There was no need. “The clan has recovered from the war. Haku’s death has eliminated our enemies.” Despite this, there was a lingering guard glittering in his amber eyes. If there were to be more enemies, they would be destroyed. “What news of Crimson Dreams?” What news of Anu?

+3

Once, Inferni had been full of beings who sought nothing but the blood and slaughter of wolves. Gabriel had lived within an Inferni like that. His own mother had crushed children’s skulls while her warriors slaughtered those who did not flee fast enough. While the bloodlust had become controlled, the violence had never left the clan. They did what they needed in order to survive—this was what Gabriel had convinced himself even as he attacked strangers, even as he crushed the ribs of a crippled man, even as he killed simply because he felt the need.

So in truth, it would be lying to say much had changed. Certainly some of the coyotes had grown weak, like his half-brother, but there were those still who would obey Gabriel’s orders without question. The Hydra, his mother and her hellspawn, those who had nothing to lose but everything to prove. Inferni was not weak. Gabriel would not allow it to be.

It pleased Gabriel to hear that Crimson Dreams was once more neutral. He had nearly gone to war with its former leaders, though the white she-wolf had offered him aid and crushed this idea. Inferni had never needed to deal with the pack to the south much beyond that. His face crunched into a smile, entertained that the large male was wise enough to mention new adults (new warriors) and the growth of the presumably strong pack as it stood. Yet it was the news of the second litter that made Gabriel’s ears rise to a black crown atop his head. His eyes lit at the mention of three sons. His three sons. Realizing the slip, his face twisted into a dark mask. “I did,” he growled.

“He should have died long before this, though.”