The elderly wolf slowly repositioned himself so he was sitting up; his legs struggling to cross indian style. He finally leaned back against the primitive wall of his dwelling and placed his shaky hands atop his knees. He was so malnourished, Orion thought he resembled a skeleton more than a man. His skin, aged with spots and wrinkles, hung loosely from his frame. 'Enemy' was inscribed across his forehead and each arm was inked, labeling him as an 'Escapist' and a 'Rebel'. Orion could just make out the name 'Endymion' tattooed below his eye.
“If your slave name is Endymion, who the hell are you, really?!” Orion pointed out.
Topher was wringing his hands nervously around the chain that traveled from his collared neck to his shackled feet. Tiny clanks filled the small room as his eyes gl
