Huron is a young wolf, but one would be particularly remiss to confuse his youth with lack of ability. Standing at the very edge of the cliff, his claws hang just over the edge, and the wind rustles his thick red mane. Huron was not born to these salty oceans. Indeed, he is home where open waters can be found, but these seas are not his. Only a true water-born wolf would understand the difference. Huron notes the family of seals resting on the boulders far beneath him. Their tough hide is resistant to the barnacles that coat the rocky crags. A seal is particularly delicious, but these ones know they are far from the wolves reach.
Behind him, those very wolves lounge about the seagrass covered cliff. All but two are new to him. Forced into fleeing their native homeland as it flooded around them, Huron and two of his pack endured a long and exhausting journey to find safety. It was by sheer luck that he and Emhyra crossed paths at the isle's edge. They immediately recognized the strength and trust in one another, and Huron, along with Vezos and young pup Nero, were sheltered by the pack on Dark Isle. It was not long until they decided to stay.
Huron sighs deeply, and settles. He drops his haunches and shoulders, laying at the cliff now, claws still gripping the edge. The magnetism between him and Emhyra is strong, he thinks. It was fate that brought the two together. Side by side, their pack is formidable. There is a sense of safety here that he has never felt before, even if these seas are not his home. The last year was more than any wolf should endure, but the scrying stone has foretold him of a turn in luck. He hopes the upcoming seasons prove far more fortuitous, and perhaps prolific...
Hunter 
Hunter