A crooked jaw gnaws at a morsel, twitching his ears to listen for the familiar sound of steps. His back pressed against the iron bars of the cage which houses their aging bones.

"Gadreel?" A flat voice whispers to the beige hound, ear a grunt from him. Though he shifts to gaze at the other wolf.

“Yes Hastur? “The mangled mutt whispers, blinking at the slim alpha.

“Have you heard word of the Ligur? “ He mutters.

”I have heard nea’h a peep, I’m sorry Hastur,” The omega sighs. The latter lowering his ears with a concerned whimper.

“That fucker better not have gone and died on me, “Hastur lets out a watery growl, pressing his side into the bars closes to the omega’s. Seeking what little comfort, the older wolf could offer for the distressed alpha.



“That one is a tough cunt, he won’t let you get your peace yet,” The omega smiles half-heartedly, nudging the bone to the slim man.

A weak laugh escapes Hastur as he whispers to Gadreel, accepting the bone from the older wolf, " I’ll chase that bastard through the Pitts of hell."

Knawing in the bone, stripping it of what marrow remains within its crevasses. The old wolf leans over, resting his head on the bars of the cage. Seeking what little warmth, the other had to offer. Slipping to into soothing slumber. Escaping the cramp and dank space.



That is until a familiar bellow wakens Gadreel from his slumber.