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It comes in shuddering breaths, in the turn of the tide.

Orange eyes flaring with cruel intent, yellow maw stretched in a hideous grin, teeth exposed. He sweeps the land, searching. One way, and another, for any that may bear witness to the mangled mess below him, of dark grey fur and empty green eyes, of bones and organs splayed, of a heart that shuddered and stopped in its pain.

The scene is red, like the encroaching dawn.

He'd crept along the border like a snake, slipping between traps, finding eventually a crack to slip into, an overlooked area, disarray and empty. He'd padded slowly into town, slipping into a home like a fox into a coop, and silenced the young voice, ripping and tearing away the throat, shearing away skin and tender flesh as the creature gagged and trembled and convulsed and finally went limp. He'd dragged them back out through the hole in heart and foundation, through the swamp and over sticks and trunks, leaving blood and flesh in his wake, before the body clenched and stilled.

He'd torn the wolfdog apart with a unearthly glint in his eye, rending flesh from bone and cackling wildly, a thrill pulsing through him as he thought of those that would find his trail, would happen across their friend drawn and quartered and rendered into bits, he salivated at the grief and loss of those who would only find bloody, cloying murder at the end of this road.

With glee he tore loose their organs, felt his teeth puncture their tender heart, squeezing the last drops of blood from muscle, he dug out their lungs and entrails and splayed them over, tossing them over bush and branch, his paws squelching organs into mud in his frenzied debauchery.

And when he was done, when his crimes were committed, when blood spilled over the hill and soaked into the leaves and the roots and the soil, he let loose a piercing, joyful howl, his body trembling. Oh, how he wished to stay, to see the reactions, to feed off their horror and sorrow. To challenge their leader and tear him apart the same, to taste that sweet blood and make Tanglewood kneel.

But he would be long gone, before any would find the mess he had left, bloody pawprints leading to the Pitt. And Keter was long dead.

the heavy tread of war on these blood soaked lands.

Eyes of blue fire took in the scene and the beast rumbled, that same scorching gaze flickering to the distraught dragon ”calm yourself - they’ll get it soon enough, but hysterics is what they want, running headfirst into this will not bring them back” the steady rumble belied his own anger.

He did not know Keter and this he did not mourn him, blood was blood and an unrecognisable face did not move War - not when he had seen so many pass.

But there home had been violated in the spilling - and that he found discontent in.

It seemed peace never did last long.