Molaki stood square over his victory, belting out the song of his home, his people. The pack around him joined in with their acknowledgement of their new Tri member, not just in the clearing, but all through Lyko; the old, the sick who couldn't make it out to the challenge fast enough, and somewhere in the chorus, his sister who was hiding his mate.
He wanted to see Asta, right now. He took no pleasure in the task he just succeeded in, that pit in his stomach widening as the reality settled in that he had fought a one man war that day, and killed wolves. He had killed members of Lyko, his pack, his family - both his metaphorical family, and his actual blood relative. He shouldn't feel badly about it, at all he knew, but if he wasn't in front of a crowd where he needed to stand bold, he would have shriveled up in in despair.
