MALRIC
The morning of their departure to WinterFang came with a certain mood that preset the tone for the very bloody day that day would turn out to be.
And Malric was never one to shy away from blood. If anything, the sight of it at the start of a new day was some good luck sign of sorts.
Especially as he stared at the corpse of his former prisoner which was laid out in the citadel's morgue.
Besides him stood Aedryn. And behind them, the ten werewolves that made up the pack wolf guards in charge of guarding one measly prison cell knelt with their heads bowed in the shame that they should rightfully swim in.
Malric rolled the coin between his fingers, eyes casually perusing through the body of Rooster and her wounds.
He deduced the autopsy in a matter of seconds.
