For @Kisla - role thread, as well as Kjors trying to reintegrate himself after his panic attack~
Thunder rumbled in the distance, buzzing through Kjors skull like the physical electric charge. Ears folded back and the man pressed onwards, lazy trot becoming a hurried lope as though the very storm itself nipped at his tendons. Each growl from the clouds was its own warning, urging the wolf onwards like a jockey might use a whip to urge his mount towards the finish line. Anyone who knew the man was privy to the not-so-secret fact that he absolutely detested thunderstorms – though he’d yet to divulge the reasons said forced of nature made him so very uncomfortable – and to see him racing pack towards pack lands shouldn’t have been a surprise at all.
What was shocking, however, as that he was not headed towards his shared den near Zephyr Rill. Instead, he veered towards the heart of Kingsfall, not to the pack cache, but towards a spot he knew Kisla favored. The slender male had been uncertain if he’d catch the alpha before, but perhaps the odds had increased in his favor now that the sky was threatening to open above them. Given, this was hardly Kjors’ course of thought – instead he was internally berating himself for his pentinent behavior. Had he not wished to apologize to the woman and bring her a meal, he’d not been caught in this oncoming storm!
Finding the spot empty, the swarthy timber wolf wheeled around, the young turkey swinging from his jaw like a criminal from the hangman’s noose. It was one of the years chicks, and now several months old, should be a prime meal for any wolf – he’d half a mind to eat it himself, if he couldn’t find the woman soon. Grumbling around feathers, Kjors huffed loudly and whirled again blindly, ready to charge off towards his own densite if the alpha didn’t appear soon.