The sound of paws thumping on the forest floor rebounded in the quiet grove. Twigs snapped beneath great weight, leaves scattered, and birds scattered into the canopy in a flurry.
Darius padded through the underbrush with little care for the noise he made. This was his domain, one of the secluded glades deeper within the Hawthorne woodlands, sacred land held in trust by his family for generations. No one trespassed here, not even pack guards. If they did, they had a death wish.
His coat gleamed in the scattered light, a rich auburn like polished chestnut, catching hints of red where the sun filtered through the trees. Massive in size, he moved like someone who lived and breathed the land. His breath came in slow, steady exhales, steaming faintly in the cool of early evening. A breeze lifted the edges of his fur. He decided to put off the remainder of his work for the rest of the day to relish in the secluded area.
'Or to avoid thinking,' muttered a dry voice inside his mind.
