Why was he out in the middle of the day indeed.

The sun was hot on his unprotected fur, the mud he'd rolled in for sun protection had long since dried and flaked off, but something kept pulling at the trio of hellspawn. Pulling and pulling, his pale ears flicked in acknowledgement when he was snorted at, but his focus wasn't on his brothers..not entirely. He knew he needed to build a bond with them, his chances getting stolen from him time and time again, but god damn.

His attention was torn between wanting to find shade and those weird ass clouds, the creatures below.

And it was like his body moved on it's own, step in step with Draugur and Abaddon, the yearning for blood in his maw and teeth in his flesh that he's done so well to smother until now rushing forth in a roar of parted fangs.