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Hybrid Holocaust was a bored, bored man. He spent his days wandering around the clanlands, ever vigilant for the wolves that rarely came. He had long since accepted that Inferni was now a motley crew of hybrids and barely-coyores, most dumb, some downright stupid. He didn’t much care for what Inferni had become, but as long as Gabriel was still the leader, he had no reason to leave. He had never liked the clan all that much for most of his life, and he and Gabriel had always been very clear about where his loyalties lay. They had a mutually beneficial relationship that kept Hybrid within the confines of the territory away from the many wolves he would have loved to torment.
But now without any wars or border skirmishes to satisfy his desire for blood, Hybrid was growing increasingly agitated. As a warrior, he had one purpose in life, and for Hybrid, it was very clear: fight. He did not know what to do with his time now that he had no one to fight; not even within the clan. He sparred with Halo, but there was an agreement that they would not hurt one another and he understood that harming a fellow warrior was not in Gabriel’s best interest – and therefore not in Hybrid’s best interest, either.
He sighed and scratched his ear with his hind leg as he stared out at the melting snow and engorged river. There was bit of grass showing beneath the snow, but otherwise, The Waste was a barren, barely-living land.