Abysol Pack Lands

His movement was stiff, but one could only suppose that was to be expected from the night before. He yawned deeply and looked about. The moon hung high above his head as he shook his body. His eyes darted over in the direction of Gawain pack before he let out a soft snarl. Every ounce of life within him hated the wolves who followed Bane, but Bane was reserved a special place for hatred in Clutch’s heart.

He dipped his head as he moved toward the river. His teeth clenched as he looked about. Lowering his muzzle he began to lap at the water, washing away the taste of sleep. Out in the middle of the river a fish splashed, startling the already tense wolf. “Damn thing,” He swore to himself as he waded in the water. The ice of the mountain water bit at his legs and he sighed.

His head raised, watching the sky. He enjoyed the pain that the ice water brought his body, as strange as that sounds. He let out a short howl as he moved away from the water. His past came back at that moment and he felt the growing urge to kill Bane, and possibly Wyote. “Family,” He spat the word toward the ground. To him they had betrayed him, the worst that kin could ever do.