3 years later
Alpha Veiler was the definition of an oxymoron.
He stomped around the pack grounds that he owned in his military boots. He eyed the trees with his red eyes, gazing around in quiet observation. Nothing got past him. He wasn't being overly vigilant, but he was focused and thoughtful as he scanned the area.
This was his land, he was in his element. He knew this acreage like the back of his hand. He also knew what he was searching for, he had the scent etched into his mind.
He appeared serious standing tall among the dark trees, and dangerous with his broad shoulders. Like a predator stalking its prey. It was clear that he was looking for something. His mannerisms were intent, focused on his surroundings.