`` A NOVEL OF WAR { claim }

[. h r i m f a x i]

Scattered in a thousand directions

x. It's a fairy tale and the story is out of date. Hrimfaxi's paws seemed to ache as he made his way over the barren soil, a cloud of dust forming behind him. Its thick air had clung in his lungs making him breathe with a slight wheeze. His black pelt was starting to turn into a lighter shade laden with the loose soil that was brought up by a slight breeze. Finally he stopped and looked around this land was barren only sprigs of grass grew here and there and there was a faint scent of water in the dusty air, rain. Perhaps after a good rain the land would fill out. A sigh left the wolfs' mug and he lowered himself to the soil with a small puff of sand surrounding his body. He shook himself to rid his pelt of the debris. Raising his muzzle to the air he sniffed eagerly on the breeze, 'Vacant.' This place was to be his.

War child you are
No future, no past