Biography
Name means 'Burning Torch' in Mapuche.
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The moon hangs high in the sky above me, glorious in it's full form. In the branches in the bare trees is an owl, watching me, hooting it's warning to others. Of course it fears me. They all fear me.
I lower my muzzle to the ground. The stale scent of deer lingers in the leaves. Where there's deer, there's more wolves, more than likely hunting a herd.
I track it.
As I follow my nose, a growl rumbles behind me. I turn to face the source and see a black dog- a hybrid of all breeds. A stinking mutt, with a damn leash attached to it's collar. At the end of the rope is a man. The flash of silver in his hand glints in my eyes and I curl my lip back to reveal my canines. While the wolf-husky mix is a large dog, I double it's size, and easily surpass it's strength. It is no match for me.
"Sick em'," the man commands. He releases the leash and the dog lunges for me; I deflect it's attack with a sharp bite to it's neck, easily catching it mid-air. I give a sharp jerk. Crack!
The dog goes limp in my jaws.
I drop it, my attention turning to the man. I can see him more clearly now; his hair is long and blonde, and sweat cakes strands to his forehead. I growl and slink along the ground, keeping my stomach level against the dirt. He unsheaths a jagged dagger.
"Show me what you got fleabag," he spits.
I lunge, tackling him, sending his weapon clattering. He lands on his back and curses; I attempt to bite his throat, which he dodges. His hands press to my chest and push me up, keeping me just out of reach. I feel him fumble for the knife and try desperately to stop him. His free hand smacks my back leg; I bark. What the hell is this guy doing? Trying to slap me to death?
He hesitates, almost reaching the dagger. I use the hesitation to my advantage and push down, finally latching onto him. I crush my jaws tightly around his throat- surely, I've gotten his windpipe. The man's body shudders and the life leaves his eyes.
I raise my muzzle and howl my triumph. As a reward, I crawl over to the dog's corpse. I lick my chops and eyeball it; where shall I start? The ribs are usually the best part.
I dig in, eating my meal. My eyes go to where the man's hand hit my thigh. What was that all about, anyways? I notice there's blood stained on my fur, in the shape of a human hand. He must have put his hand in the dog's blood when reaching for the dagger.
As I lift my gaze and swallow a chunk of meat, I see the same owl, watching me. I feel it's judgement. It's disapproval. I snarl at it; so what? Food is food, regardless of what species it is.
But it doesn't matter. The bird's wings expand and it flies away.
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Written by Apollo! #63179
Breeding Info
N/A
| Personality
Cold and ruthless, no one knows what's really on this brutes mind.
Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ivu-SB7X_s BVB- In The End.
He has a hand imprinted on his back left haunch in permanent red ink.
Preferences
The flesh of his own kind, any and all other kinds of meat sicken him.
Special Skills
Quidel is very deceiving, able to trick almost anyone and everyone into believing any lie he may throw their way.
"The trust of the innocent,
is the liar's most useful tool."
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Reserved Breeding's
Spring
1-
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3-
Summer
1-
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3-
Fall
1-
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3-
Winter
1-
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3-
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Winter 
Day Weather: 
