The season had changed and so did the feel of the world around Desmond. The heat disappeared and the winds had picked up. The lone wolf did not care, however. Instead he was too concerned with the idea of causing some trouble. His large form moved over the lands and his green eyes stared intently to the shifting of the land. What once was green was now dying and changing. Leaves laid over the ground, covering the soft ground and making it feel almost dead. The fog had rolled into the rogue lands and Desmond knew it would be hard to hunt this way. So he set out for the neutral territories. He had heard of two packs who lived not too far from one another. One was concerned with power, while the other enjoyed something along the lines of bunny rabbits and butterflies. Rumors of these packs filled the lands and caused their guests to choose which to join. But not Desmond. He had been alone for so long, it seemed like a strange idea to form up a pack and live with a bunch of fools. The worst things about being in a pack were many: never alone, drama, complaining, rules, commitment, and of course, that feeling that you were never worth anything. Desmond would rather live his days out alone, killing and providing for the most important one in his life. All sense of time had been forgotten as he embarked on his journey. He searched for a place where the prey was sufficient and fat. He sniffed the air and followed the scent to fresh water. It was a sweet smell, one which he could not deny. Any prey would be sure to linger in these parts.

As he made his way towards the water, he could hear the crashing falls getting nearer. It would only be a few more minutes and he would be there. Just as he was about to discover the water, he heard some rustling in the bushes around him. It was a small bit of noise, just enough to peak his interest in the small prey which would be nestled inside the foliage. He crouched low to the ground and stalked his prey in silence. He monitored his breathing and kept his eyes on the prize. Soon a fattened rabbit emerged from the bush and lunged for the water. Its little legs pushed it to the liquid joy and stopped right at the edge. Its ears twitched as it leaned over to drink from the river. Its whiskers grazed the water's surface and it seemed to be relaxed. The brown little body was full of fur and fluff. It's little cotton ball of a tail sat just above its rear end. Desmond approached silently, his paws moved very carefully not to make any noise. He stood still behind the creature as it stopped drinking. Left and right, it's head turned, but it did not look behind to see the large predator behind it. Opening his maw, his jaws were exposed to the outside world. He stretched his mouth open wide, curled himself to be smaller and quickly sprung forward off his hind legs. His front paws barreled down on the creature and forced his teeth around the tiny neck, squeezing hard. It yipped and screamed in his jaws, kicking to be freed. Desmond stood at his full height, allowing the creature to tire itself out. He could feel the blood dripping from the body. It even splashed on his paws. The crimson dye stuck to the tips of his coat, but he did not mind. Soon he would be able to wash it off. Tighter his jaws squeezed the small being. His fangs pierced through the skin and jerked as he shook his head from side to side. The force of his shaking caused the rabbit's neck to snap. No longer did it kick or scream. Now it hung lifelessly in his maw.

Having killed the rodent, he dropped it by his paws and took a step into the waters. He cleaned off the blood on his feet, watching it wash away with the small current. His green eyes stared and he almost forgot about his kill. Jumping out of the water, he tackled his prey and threw it up into the air, catching it in his mouth. He did this a couple more times until he dropped it on the ground and started to tear into it. Muscles and tendons were stretched until they snapped from the pressure. Blood splattered everywhere and he knew he would have to jump into the waters again. For now, he would only concern himself with his meal, scrawny, yet still a meal.

There was little to do in Erenyx, and what little was to be done was already done. Fel sighed, looking around the trees as they passed on by. She seemed to spend more and more time away from others and, in fact, had forgotten the last time she’d spoken to any of her pack mates. Intruders who wanted to join were a different story, of course. Yet, out of the many wolves she knew personally in Erenyx, she did not interact with them at all recently except for a curt nod on passing by. The solitude did not bother her, but she felt that there should have been something to say to her equals and new superior. She had not even seen Irrationality since the spars. For a moment, Fel stopped and wondered if he knew.

With this decrease in mandatory social activity, she spent more time straining her body and scoping out the next few lessons for her apprentices. Both were coming along rather well, considering one was a pup and another was nothing but a lowly healer. The paws of the raven beast began to trot forward again towards an unknown destination. Piper showed more promise than Heaven, despite being so young and foolish as she was. Perhaps she could grow into a fine wolf someday… Only if she stuck to her training though. The leaves and dying grass crunched pleasantly beneath her as she continued along and allowed her mind to wander, her thoughts not drowned out by the cold wind whistling in her ears.

Eventually, Fel found herself in the territory she knew to be called Isle de Muerto. It was a strange name, but apparently it had something to do with death. She didn’t know the language it was named in though, nor did it trouble her to be unable to precisely decipher the phrase. Her ears flickered around in every direction, nostrils flaring to detect any form of life. It did not take long for her to hear the noisy splashing near the rushing waters. The Elite turned towards the commotion, heading towards it at a silent walking pace. The scent hit her before the figure could be seen, but it was clearly a male. The lack of either the sickly sweet scent of Helidos or the musky scent of Erenyx indicated that this brute was a rouge. When Fel stepped out of the shadows of the trees that concealed her pelt, the dusky wolf was still tearing away at his, admittedly meager, meal. From his large and muscular form though, it was clear that he did not have much trouble providing himself with nutrition. She stopped a respectful distance away from him, having no intentions of posing a threat to his catch. Fel waited until he was about finished before speaking. “How goes hunting this autumn?” Her voice was deep as usual, but also coarse from lack of use. The Elite stood firmly on the ground, her tail at ease but her muscles otherwise tense beneath the thick onyx coat that successfully shrouded them. She would wait for a response before dipping her snout ever so slightly in a more formal greeting, offering an exchange of identities. “I am Fel, Elite female of Erenyx. Who are you, rouge?”

Ariste walked along a subtle path, one paw following the other. The seasons had changed,and the leaves began to take on a brighter color that only appeared in autumn. A cold breath of wind now filled the air, and the hot summer heat was decreasing to a vague chill. Some time had past since the spars, and though she still had some healing to do, her breathing had fallen back into its normal, easy pattern. It was clear the broken and cracked ribs she had sustained wouldn't leave any permanent and-or dangerous injuries. As she stepped along, a few early-falling leaves that littered the grounds crunched underpaw, shattering as if made of glass. Everything seemed fragile during the season preceding winter, the trees bending to the whims of the wind, leaves trembling before they were dislodged from their branch. Animals scurried about, hurrying to prepare themselves from the merciless winter. Anything and everything left unprotected and unhidden would be coated in a sheer blanket of white, is a few months time. Scents carried stronger on the wind, and even from afar Ariste could scent the sickly sweet smell of the exposed meat of assassinated prey, and the coppery scent of freshly spilled blood that lingered in the air, captured and blown around by the fall wind. Ears would perk forward, as well as an ebony snout raised to snuffle at the air. Mentally sorting out the scents until she could clearly tell from which direction the odor was wafting from.

She stilled her movements, weighing whether or not she wished to follow the trail, if only to see whom she would meet at the end. A little voice in the back of her mind whispered, telling her yes - she did want to find out who or what else was roaming these lands. Body turning, legs would propel the vix forward, neck stretching out slightly and nose reaching out to an imaginary point, paws fumbling awkwardly for a moment before they found their rhythm, inky black paws gliding over the surface in perfect tandem toward her destination. Bright, yet otherwise blank eyes stared in front of her, ears turned in the direction of the other predators. As she drew closer, she could identify them both as wolves, discerning there were two and not the expected one, only one whom she recognized, though. The female, she detected, was of Erenyx, carrying the distinctive smell of the pack, as well as one she had stored in the back of her mind - the Elite, that was it. The other, however, scented of no pack, and she did not recognize him individually either. She had noted the small yet quite significant increase in Loners, choosing the stay around the territories of the two packs for the time being, rather than join one of them. She could see the appeal, yet she could not. What did they possibly have to live for? It seemed too impossibly boring, laying around all day or simply wandering territories with nothing specifically to do or work towards. Tail streaming behind her, Ariste galloped closer to the others, every stride long, yet silent if you weren't paying careful attention to the sounds that surrounded you.

Taking care to avoid stepping on or brushing anything that could potentially cause noise, she wasn't necessarily trying to sneak up on them, but preferred not to make her presence immediately known with a big, loud entrance. The snarling roar of falling water echoed through the land, reaching the ears of everything within earshot proximity. The Deltess expertly tuned the growl out, focusing on all of the other sounds, the hushed whisper of the bushes shuddering and leaves whisked away, and the pitter patter of tiny feet, searching for every morsel of food to be found anywhere. Her eyes flicked forward as the growl grew louder, as did the stench of a new kill, and wolf. Finally the pair came into view, two featureless frames that amounted to be the same size, even though different genders. Slowing to a walk, she approached them, outwardly appearing relaxed, had muscles bunched and at the ready to move. She paused, staying within the peripheral vision of the Rogue, if to make him feel better, and lowered herself into a sitting position, assuring she wasn't going to attempt to steal his prize from under his paws. He was well built, however, not scrawny like most Rogues. He was obviously well fed, and able to fend off threats. "Hello," she said, words rolling from her tongue coolly in greeting. "Good day, Fel. And what might you be called, brute?" She questioned, not offering her own name yet, until the male spoke his. Tail brushing comfortably against her haunches, resting against the side of her paws. She looked unwaveringly at the Elite, before her eyes strayed to focus clearly on the Lone canine, then the exposed bones and bloody and mangled remains of a rabbit. Straightening, she kept a carefully controlled expression, inhaling deeply and slowly, breathing in all the scents.

(Excuse my writing, I had to re-write this after it got deleted)

The smell of blood was like chum to the lands for large predators. Desmond knew this and yet, he did not care. If any wolves did wish to come after his prize, he would be pleasantly pleased with the outcome, whether it be of a fight or even a small scuffle. The Rogue was very much into the idea of drama and the sound of it. But he lived to be the reason for it, not the prey of it. If anyone were to start the issues, it would be from his own jaws or paws. Nobody would pull a fast one over his eyes. As he continued to show down on his meal, he could feel the blood starting to cool down. No longer was it fresh and hot. The weather had a horrific way of changing this. The large male continued to rip into the prey, snapping the bones in half as he consumed them. His ears twitched with anxiety as he heard the noise of an approaching wolf. He lifted his eyes from the prey, still eating as he viewed the approaching wolf. His ears stood still, listening carefully for any signs of danger. If she were alone, it would not be an issue. Luckily, she was alone. As she approached, she showed no signs of being dangerous, no threat to him or his kill. Desmond stopped eating, to be polite. He lifted his head and looked to the female. His paws did not move, nor did he try to cover up the kill. He was at ease and relaxed. He stood up straight, allowing the fae to see him for all of his glory. "I would have to say that it is not too bad. The rabbits are plump from their overdoes of eating for winter. I cannot say I have tackled a young deer for I have not tried. I'm sure pack wolves do that sort of thing all the time."

He smelled the scent which came from her form. She was a pack wolf, one scent he had smelled as he wandered on his way from the borders. One pack smelled of many wolves, a dominant male and female, while the other consisted of only one dominate male. It was interesting to see how each pack held itself. The rumors which spread over the lands had been about the values each one held. One was of a good nature and loved bunnies or something like that. The other was about respect and honor. Neither sounded like something he wanted. Instead, he would be a loner for the rest of his days. He would do what he wanted, where he wanted, when he wanted and nobody would be able to tell him no. Desmond could sense that her scent was of the darker pack. It had an eerie feel to it almost. Though not much had given the Rogue a scare. It was often hard to find anything which could do that. His eyes roamed over the fae, increasingly interested in her physique as he explored her form. Such a beautiful creature stood before him. Of course he would be polite, there was no reason not to be. "Greetings Fel, I am Desmond and as you can clearly tell, I am a Rogue. I do not plan on joining either packs, yet I have heard rumors of yours. Care to shed a little light on it, just to see if the rumors are indeed true?" He gave a slight smile, wondering if the fae would mutter a word about her pack at all. It was not long until the pair had gained another friendly visitor.

This fae was like Fel, dark with light colored eyes. She was not as large, but seemed to have a good feel for the things around them. She had tried her best to keep quiet and yet her scent gave it all away, even before she was seen. He turned his head towards her, seeing that she too knew Fel. What an interesting thing to happen. Not one but two wolves from the same pack had discovered the lone wolf. Had they been together the whole time? Was this some kind of pack plot to bring the male to their lands as a trophy? Whatever it was, Desmond would not stand for it. But he would wait until they tried anything. For now he would be calm and reserved, polite as he had been. After all, these were two ladies, beautiful in their own individual ways. when she sat down, Desmond felt more at ease. They could both take him whilest being seated. He thought of eating the rest of his meal, but such would be rude before the ladies. Instead, he would speak and get to know them better. All he had was time now, nothing holding him back or anyone. He could talk from sun up to sun down. As the new wolf spoke to her companion, Desmond took note. Fel was of higher rank than the other one. She was given respect for her rank and duties to the pack, this was key information. Elite was a strange name though, what exact rank responsibilities did such a rank hold? He could only wonder. "I was just getting done telling your friend here that my name is Desmond. So tell me fae, what shall I call you?"

Fel listened and watched as the rouge replied to her and rose to his full height. Of hunting, Fel had to admit she kept up with little. She ate what was in the kill pile if she was actually hungry and short on time. Otherwise, she would quickly catch a rodent and be done with it. Feeding was sustenance for her, not entertainment. Fel knew many others found pleasure in the hunt, but she did not agree on a personal standpoint. This might explain why she never wanted to be a hunter for a pack. “I have seen a few deer in our piles and many rabbits, especially with the pups maturing and beginning to hunt in the moors.” Her words were spoken bluntly, like one would list facts. Fel was always like this when she spoke. But then again, what need was there for her to speak in any other way?

Remaining standing while he introduced himself, she inspected this ‘Desmond’ further before she decided that her initial observations were accurate. Upon hearing his style of speech, she was slightly impressed by its independence. It fit with neither Erenyx’s grumbling brutality nor Helidos’s cheery tones. Instead, it lingered somewhere in between, a neutral but polite style that still got straight to the point. Fel decided she would, at the least, find speaking with him tolerable. Her voice, in all of its coarseness and brute-like depth, rumbled on to answer his question. “We are fighters, but are currently disputed under one who some claim to be a tyrant and others, a leader. As a pack, however, we are effective, strong, and rather merciless. Most carry on stone-faced because the pack has shaped them to be so. Some, like myself, were in that state long before they arrived at the borders. And a very limited number still hold on to their previous happiness and cheerful optimism. I guarantee you, they will not last. In Erenyx, the mind, body, and hearts of each are tested constantly. In that minority I described, one of the three will eventually break.” She shrugged, her description completed. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

A short time later, the scent of one of her pack mates arrived, the corresponding body following it with a few minutes of delay. Of all wolves, it was Ariste. There was no visible change in Fel’s visage, but her tail instantly rose to a more dominant position once her head swung over to look at her. Even with their opposite movements in rank, Fel was still above her, and if given reason, would remind her of where she belonged. She offered no dip of the head in greeting, nor uneccesarily polite gestures. “Good day, delta.” Even her name was omitted, as Fel found no current use in it. They were not equals, nor would Fel ever find them to be such. The larger fae had previously nearly beaten her to a pulp with sheer force. The Elite was not, however, irate nor aggressive; in fact, she was as calm as always. There was no need to be, not yet at least. And so, her display of dominance was still carried out with her usual disposition, obviously not infringing upon the independence of the male. Her tail raised taller as she met the other’s gaze, challenging it to try to remain there. It soon seemed to leave and explore the brute, so she let hers drift back to Desmond, her premier companion of the moment. Once the others’ formal exchange was completed, Fel would ask, “Rouge Desmond then, if you may allow me to question you, how did you wander to these regions? Were you the spawn of loners, or did you flee from a pack? I was an exile twice, so I must ask.” Her ears pricked towards him, curious about what the peculiar rogue had to say.

Ariste watched the two, gauging the different reactions to her presence. She had predicted Fel's, it was quite obvious, however the Rogue's surprised her, since most would have already risen to the defensive, being caught between not one, but two pack wolves approaching him and his meal - especially so it being fall, a time when creatures traveled out of their homes to find food, even if it meant stealing it. However, she was certain neither had any plans to attack this male without provocation or reason to do so. The dark knightress scrutinized his form carefully, watching for any signs of an attack, skillfully hidden under a thickening pelt and subtle shift of the bones. When nothing gave so away, her eyes roamed back toward Fel, not at all surprised to find she had brought herself into a significantly higher position, claiming her dominance. She did not cringe away - there was no reason to. She was not going to pretend to hold more dominance over the Elite, for she knew didn't. But she did see her as a lesser wolf than before. The former Beta kept a high ranking status, true, and could say that she beat Ariste in a fight. But though she had emerged from the spar victorious, she had lost rank of second in command, and could not place it on anything or anyone other than herself. She herself was proud to have earned her own position through lost blood and pain. But she had to be wary, pride was an ensnaring thing, a cold killer that destroyed lives. Tail dancing subtly, curious eyes turned back to this Rogue, nostrils flaring as she inhaled, seeking out any tell-tale signs of where he was from. The muscled body and thick pelt of a Mountain-wolf, or the wispy, thin fur of a southern wolf. "I am Ariste, Delta of Erenyx." She offered as his spoke his own name, offering him a small nod of her head. "And I too am curious - where do you hail from? And why choose to roam here?" She questioned, listening to the crackle of leaves being sweeped away, keeping an eye out for the dangers that were rumored to raom Isle De Muerto.

(Sorry for the wait, and the length)

Amused by her tales, Desmond kept his mouth silenced. His green eyes watched her lips as she spoke, eying her tongue as it rolled about her maw. It was a miraculous thing - the tongue. How could one small muscle create a very dangerous part of a wolf? Speech. So they were fighters, brawlers, gladiators of their kind. It was an interesting sound to it all, and though Desmond did not seek that kind of life for him, the thought was rather exhilarating. Both faes seemed to be respectful to he and his kill, and he was greatly appreciative of such a thing. If it had been the other way around, one pack wolf against two Rogues, surely the times would be different. There would be no meat left to steal. Of course, if Desmond had wandered upon a pack wolf with a meal, he would do what he always did best. With the words of their pack, he grew more and more curious as to which this other pack was like. Did they not perform such acts as spars? As more questions hit his ears, he smiled. They were as curious of him as he was of them. Such an interesting display. "I insist, please refer to me as only my name. Rogues have little use for titles as I answer to nobody. You may simply call me 'Desmond'. As for where I come from, well that is a rather long tale. But if you ask, I shall share. It all started long ago with my father. He ended up joining some gang of male wolves. They were led by a large midnight colored wolf, much like the both of you, though his eyes burned with an emerald glow. I do not know his name, for I was never told it, but he was a monster. They did horrid things to faes, and my father ended up saving my mother from such a fate. They ran away together and my mother gave birth to myself and my siblings. They started their own pack. Life was easy, and more wolves joined. My father wished to appoint me as the Beta of his pack, above the others of my brotherhood. Connor hated this idea more than the rest, and so he challenged me for the rank. The loser would not only never be Beta, but they would never live to see the light of day. I killed him and the battle seemed to last a lifetime. Blood and bones were exposed, pure flesh for all the see. My father did not wish for it to be a death spar, but we took it too far. Blaming Connor's death on me, he grew a hatred for me. It burned deep within his heart and I knew I would never escape it. On that day, I vowed I would not succumb to such ways as pack life, that I would never join another. Pack wolves make such things troublesome for all. There are ranks, and duties to fulfill for the lazy assholes who do nothing to contribute. Your ways are shattered and corrupt. Why not live a life alone? You fend for yourself, feed yourself, and have nobody to even worry about. If you live or die, it is up to yourself. I find myself wandering to these areas often, I like the lands these places have. Plus, it is much more interesting to meet new wolves than to just speak to the bizarre ones where I come from. The wolves in the unwanted places, they are... twisted - not right. They are not like either of you.." Desmond looked down to his kill and for a second, he thought about finishing it. The smell was far too intoxicating for him, but he lifted his eyes away. Fel had spoken of being an Exile not once, but twice. Such an interesting thing to discover. "You were Exiled twice? Please tell me of this tale. I am dying to know how an Exiled wolf made it into living with another pack.. Surely this will be the most interesting story I have ever heard.."

((I apologize for the quality. It took a lot to finish this. XD))

Fel ignored the lesser wolf on the side, listening primarily to Desmond as he responded. She, after all, had no interest in the other fae unless this other decided to prove herself cocky, which the Elite would be only too glad to beat out of her. The brute, on the other hand, had a rather interesting tale. The monstrous midnight male with emerald eyes, as he described, reminded her of Teren. For the purpose of this conversation, however, she chose not to mention the possible connection. After all, it was only an assumption. She could be absolutely wrong. Ears pricked, Fel digested the rest of the story and stored it in her memory for possible later use. Bits and pieces sounded similar to her own history, but as a whole, they had entirely different upbringings. And the Elite had to disagree, to some extent. “What little use must be the higher ranks within the society of the pack, if they do not ensure that these lazy assholes, as you put it, pull their weight and keep their head straight upon their shoulders. But you do have a point. Life as a loner is manageable, and in most cases, even attractive. Yet for some, like myself, a greater purpose is more appealing. It is not that I live to serve someone, unless I believe they are worth serving of course, but rather that I find it more tolerable having something to busy my paws with: to ensure that everyone is in line, capable of their duties to the pack as fighters, and working efficiently. I spent about two years as a rouge… I know both sides of the coin and which one I belong on.” Fel saw his glance down at his prey, keeping her eyes trained on his head. He could finish it, for all she cared. But it seemed that she had sparked his curiosity to reach beyond the scent of fresh meat.

The raven fae thoughtfully paused for a moment. Should she tell the entire story, or just a brief description? “The first was when I was a younger fae at the age of three. My father had been training me to replace him, putting me in the temporary position of Beta until he would be upon his deathbed. I will not bore you with the details of my training, nor of my multiple mentors who eventually fell when pitted against me, but I shall share the final test. I was sent with a small team of wolves in the earliest hours of the morning to execute a raid upon our rival pack’s dens. They were located in the foothills of the mountains where I was raised, but our descent should’ve gone unnoticed under the cover of the night and the favorable winds. Clearly, someone had gave those bastards a warning, since we were ambushed with a force that greatly outnumbered our own. I barely escaped, and do not know if any of my team survived that expedition. Yet my father saw this as an utter disgrace, and so he banished me from my home, stripping me of my name. It was as an exile that I first took upon myself the name of ‘Fel’. That day will never be forgotten in my memory, for it was my one actual failure, but at the same time, it is best it happened. My father was the spawn of the devil himself, and I’ve met no wolf more terrible than him. If I had stayed, I would have been his blind servant, bred and conditioned only to take his place as a clone. Now, I make my own decisions and live by my own moral standards.” She grew quiet for a moment with the purpose of allowing things to settle in his mind before picking up again. “The second incident was from Helidos, the other pack in these lands. I was Guardian there, and had been trained for the positon by, as I see now, the only truly capable wolf in that pack. But after changes in the leadership and a certain, brutal event, the alphess convicted me of murder. I still believe that I did the right thing, but they were too blind to see that. Yes, without compassion, I took her life, but Athena died with the honor she deserved. The fools of Helidos will never understand that it is best to die at the right time.” A chuckle, its hoarseness a bit unnerving, came out of her throat. “Murder, murder. They all cried murder. And for this, their cry, I was exiled.” For a moment, she felt a taste in her mouth. It was a figment of her memory, the coppery taste of blood warming her teeth, specifically Athena’s. The last blood she had tasted consisted of Ariste’s and Heaven’s, one from a spar and one from training. But the recollection of her second exile returned the tawny healer’s taste to her teeth. She swiped her tongue over her right canine, which was entirely clean, but the tang still remained. It was not the burdening weight of conscience, for there was none on the matter. Fel had done the right thing, and would always act as she believed just. Her nearly colourless gaze remained as neutral and unreadable as it had always been, its pools reflecting the greener orbs of the brute to whom she spoke. “I always find it interesting when someone speaks of sibling rivalries, for I never had any siblings who were chosen to survive past their first day. It makes me wonder if my fate would have been different if I had a littermate.”

For some odd reason, she had agreed with his mindset about pack life. What a strange thing for an Elite to think of a pack. As she spoke of her story, Desmond found himself leaning close to his kill and starting to eat it once more. Dinner and a fascinating story, what better way to eat a meal than that? The rabbit seemed to be a little cold from the dropping temperatures and the time which had lapsed since they first began speaking. But it did not bother him. He had eaten frozen prey before just so he would not have to hunt for himself. As the male listened to her, he could tell she had been through so much. All of it was of interest to him. "Sounds as if you have lived a great deal of experience in your short years. I wager you no older than possibly five with the physique and beauty your coat still holds. No wolf has ever gotten the surprise on me, and none ever shall. After so much time on my own, I am... paranoid, some would say. My senses are strong, much stronger than wolves who live within their pack. For I have spent so much time alone, I am never safe. Pack wolves have the tendency to get complacent. They think that because their numbers are large, they will never get overrun or attacked. But that is not the case. If I ever did join a pack, I would never be the one to follow rules and would perhaps be on my own much of the time. It's a lifestyle I have come accustomed to. But I do admit, this lifestyle gets awfully lonely. Speaking to the trees or frightened squirrels just doesn't do it any longer. And it has been a long time since I have found a wolf as intriguing as yourself, dear Fel of Erenyx." He had finished his rabbit and now only the fur and bones remained. He would take the fur to his den, keeping it along with the others and saving the bones for another time to mindlessly gnaw on. The large brute looked over to the fae before him. His green eyes watched her, though he was not worried about anything. Their little talk with one another had proven to be quite informative for the male. Speaking of siblings brought a smile to his maw. "Sibling rivalry is not all it's cracked up to be. It's more annoyance than anything. As a young wolf, I enjoyed it, but as time went on, I discovered the true reason for siblings. They are only brought into this world to annoy the shit out of you until your ears bleed and you can take no more of it. If my brothers taught me anything, it's that most wolves are foolish and with the right abilities you can pretty much get whatever you want in life with little to no effort." He smiled wide as he spoke his last sentence, allowing his large teeth to be seen to the fae. It was not our of aggression or anger, just pure glee. He did not care for the pack life, but he was highly interested in it. "So tell me, Fel, what great tales do you have of your pack now? Is there some information I am missing for the lands of Erenyx? For I all have heard are rumors spread from the mouths of those who feel you betrayed them."

Fel seated herself in a more comfortable position, flicking her unusually long tail up on top of her paws. In her statuesque form, she watched the brute finish his meal whilst she spoke. The Elite’s ears and gaze remained focused on the brute, who eventually gave his reaction. A single furry brow raised slowly for a moment, then lowered back to its neutral position. She had not been complimented on physical appearance in years, though it was something she did not care for anyway. Fel considered it a very peculiar thing to say, but allowed him to go on with the rest of his short speech. Once he finished, she finally replied, “If you had wagered a rabbit on your statement, I would have left with a bit more weight to my belly, for I am currently at the age of seven.” Her words were still rugged and cold as she glanced over her fur, “And ‘beauty,’ for me, is nonexistent. I see practicality in my form, which I keep at its top shape. Perhaps your strong senses deceive you, this once. I see little luster left to my fur. As for yourself, you speak truly. But it is the strongest wolves of the pack that always know danger could be lurking anywhere, even in pack lands. As a former Guardian, I was trained to always be ready to protect my alphas, regardless of the situation or surroundings. Yet, with the way you talk, I would think you should invest in a ‘friend.’ I’ve heard they’re nice to keep around,” she chuckled hoarsely. “Or perhaps with your independent attitude, you are meant to be a leader of wolves, not a follower.” Though half of her words were laced with a sarcastic, teasing tone, none were meaningless.

The description of what it was like to have a sibling, despite being unamusing to her, quenched her curiosity. It was evident that she was lucky not to have litter mates, or else they would likely be dead from her own jaws or she at theirs. Her father would have likely pitted them against one another to see which pup was the most promising. Fortunately, none existed for Fel. Besides, she already had an entire pack of cocky imbeciles to deal with; more annoyances were not welcome. The raven fae looked to his smile, finding it strange to see such a toothy grin. For a moment, she considered if she had ever made such an expression, but soon came to the conclusion that she did not recall such an event. Fel had never been one to show much enthusiasm or joy for anything anyway. She was more like a storm among the puffy, white expanse of clouds in the sky on a sunny day, and she was just as likely to rain on everyone’s parade with her blunt, truthful opinions. Upon being prompted by Desmond’s question, she had to consider what she should tell him. Revealing specific pack information was always a risky choice, but it could easily be spun into a patriotic statement. However, the disillusionment she felt towards Erenyx told her that she needn’t lie to Desmond for the purpose of patriotism. With a shrug, she answered him bluntly, “Pack life is not necessarily as interesting as you think. Our current alpha, Teren, came out of nowhere and defeated Steele, the one who established the pack. He ate his heart and lined his den with the remaining pelt. As for recent events, our pack had a shift in rankings. Also, a former high-ranking wolf, the beloved fae of Steele, suffered a concussion. Her only pup has disappeared from Erenyx lands, and her own attitude has changed drastically since her injury. If she was weak before, she was at least proud and loyal to her original leader. Now she is a pathetic, mindless servant. Other than what I must hear though, I try to stay away from rumors. If it is not relevant to pack safety or my personal interests, I do not care for it. Yet, since you seem to know, what’s new from Helidos?”

Desmond smiled and looked to Fel. "And that is where you are wrong, Fel or Erenyx. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and unless you have the ability to pluck your own eye from your own skull and see the figure of your own self.. then I believe I am correct. You see the things you see as important to yourself. Where I am an outsider, I notice all things about the wolves I have around me. I am mindful of myself, and though I can be cocky, I know what I am terrible at as well. For the age of seven years, you look truly stunning. I could only hope that my own self would be able to match your appearance with age. I want others to look upon me and wonder just how many years I have beneath my paws. And when they guess it a few short, then I shall smile and appreciate their hidden compliment. Which, I believe, is what you should do. I mean you no harm in my compliments, just speaking my mind and I always speak the truth. For there are no good reasons to lie - none that I would ever think of." She did, however, agree with his comments about pack wolves. There were many who were ill equipped to think of outside dangers, only concerned for the love triangles and heart-throb issues of the pack. When she spoke of him leading a pack, he could not help but to smile. He even gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. "This wolf is not cut out for pack life... If I ever did, I guess I would have to lead, since I have an issue with authority... after all. If I had some high and mighty wolf barking orders at me, I doubt I would even listen. I'd probably be exiled before I could utter a single word. But no wolf would really want to join a pack a Rogue started, would they? I do have experience in pack life, and I watched my father a good portion of the time... But you'd think they would wish to follow a buck instead of a rabbit in experience terms... anyway.