The beige wolf moved his way through the shadowy forest, weaving from trees and other obstacles. The white, molted spiral on his forehead seemed to illuminate whenever a rare patch of light shone through. The amber orbs glanced around his surroundings.

The brute swiveled his cream cranium, and his near white auds twitched. The beige that covered most of his body slowly melted into a soft white on his paws, ears, and tail. The amber optics seemed to have a fiery determination in them, and, as his pupils dilated in the weak light, one came to a realization: He was a loner, banished from civilization.

I must say, Alcate is quite arrogant. Vanity has touched him many times, maybe not much, but indeed, he has felt it. The brute has a sharp tongue, snapping insults whenever he feels like it. A prankster, the beige wolf enjoys cracking jokes, even when the time is not exactly appropriate. Unfortunately, he swears quite often, which got him in a heap of trouble as a pup. This wolf, however, isn't a drag to be around; he definitely knows how to have a good time. Alcate isn't very likely to hold a grudge against someone, and will invite anyone to join him on his constant search for a permanant pack.

Born into the Gladiel Pack, a place very far from Sabio, Alcate was the 'odd one' of the bunch. First off, his siblings were all black to gray, while he was a light beige. None of his littermates had the spiral; apparently, it was the mark of a legend, the leader had told him. His personality, eagerness to swear, and sharp tongue landed him in the 'doom den' numerous times. As he neared his first birthday, the pack began to grow wary of him. The leader was growing frail and ill; the pack blamed Alcate and his white spiral. Banished and accused of witchcraft, he set out on his own, hoping to find a new pack. His search has so far been fruitless, but he has wandered into Sabio, Lycos, and Troltzan territory. He has no traveling companions, no one to share his tales of granduer. He is an excellent storyteller, at that. Alcate; searching for redemption.

The obsidian wolf paused for a moment. Alleppaca. The name resounded in his mind, echoing across his skull. The aud perched on his skull swiveled for a moment, as he listened to the howling winds scream around the cave's entrance. He sighed for a moment, letting the memories from the Toran flow back to him, but he stopped abruptly. The wolf had seen him before, what would she think now as his thoughts overwhelmed him? "I see." he said finally, his deep, husky voice reaching to the end of the cave. The brute swished his tail, now ignoring the half-eaten fish that lay beside him.
He tilted his cranium to one side now, looking at the beige figure. Apparently, one paw was crippled; the fea put no weight on it. The chocolate brown streaks splashed across her back looked like a smudge on a cream paper.
"What has brought you to these barren lands?" he asked quietly, hoping to get a conversation started. It was far too awkward to just sit and wait for the storm to let up, for even wolves had a sense of etiquette. His aqua orbs looked around the cave for about the hundreth time. Those looming overhead 'fangs' seemed no longer threatening, but more as a barricade, protection against the strong winds.