04-19-2008, 11:44 AM
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The past several weeks had been remarkably eventful. Tristan had gone from a loner to someone with a purpose—he was to protect this pack, though mostly, he was concerned for his sister. Fatin had changed overnight, it seemed, but he was with her the nights when it seemed dawn would never break. She cried and writhed and spoke their names aloud and he could do nothing to help her. So he had settled into a day-to-day of patrolling, keeping himself fed, and making sure that Fatin was well enough off. He had not spoken to the others unless briefly in passing, and that suited him just fine.[/html]
A call soon pulled the red wolf from his path, and he trailed it towards the outer edge of the pack lands. What he soon found was a young girl. She was skinny and smelt vaguely of soot, which meant she was from the land over the mountain. Of course. The stragglers would come in time. “Yes?” His voice was easy, though deep and worn by the years alone and in the wild.