High-mane lapped his wounds. He cursed the fact that he wasn't in his wolf-form. The young pup fended him off for far too long. He could have killed the pup if it wasn't one of his. He infected it, so now it was as good as one of his own cubs.
High-mane sat in one of the stone boxes. He had devoured the long dead Flesh-beings that were inside, not tainted by the shufflers. His pack was still prowling, tracking the shell. They had said that it was moving out of his area. High-mane wanted to follow, he would follow. Fire-Arm would not escape. They were bonded, the wolf-blood now flowed inside Fire-Arm.
High-mane sniffed the air, and smelled the scent of Red-fang, his eldest cub. He had the markings too. The ones of a pack-leader.
The shell is out of the rock-forest, shall we follow? Red-fang growled.
Yes...Yes, we will follow. High-Mane answered. The young pup and Fire-arm are mine, but the pack may devour anyone else.
Red-fang grinned and padded outside. High-mane heard him order the pack. The sky-fire was falling. Soon they would be wolves once more, and crack the shell open.