#throatoffire

The moon was rising, Zo could feel it.  Buzzing under his skin, making him restless, the air practically charged with the promise of the hunt.  Their pack was one that kept to the more primal ways, of course, moved according to whim and where the prey went, so long as their greater alpha didn't need them, but as She moved higher and higher in the sky, closer and closer, they retreated deeper and deeper into the forest, further away from the noise and stink of humanity as senses honed and sharpened in response.

But Zo was restless.  He preferred the woods, sure, preferred the green and open air to the smog and grey and closeness of civilization, but prey grew more scarce as the season wore on.  Varek said they needed supplies, food for if it became too scarce to hunt for, and it fell to his second to scout.  No matter the gnawing in his belly or the ceaseless itch under his skin, so he took the Omega and left Sonja and Varek to deal with whatever the other wolf thought was more important.