Biography
The half brother of Dumat, Qunti and Bahati.
...
He hadn't learned of his other siblings until much, much later. He didn't know anything about his blood family, but he knew that he needed to find them. He had always been assured that he would know them when he'd see them.
Whiskey was found at around an estimated three months of age by a very gruff old lone male. The pup was filthy, and his growing fur was matted to his core by clumps of mud and debris. The old wolf had never seen anything like it - the mud was dried in some spots like clay, and the pup's fur was caught within much of it. When he'd walk, chunks of his hair had been pulled from his skin due to the fur being so glued to the solidified mud. The pup had sassed him so much that the old wolf was ready to desert the lone pup, but he had carefully swept the pup up in his mouth and carried him to an unclaimed creek to bathe.
The pup was half bald by the time the mud, sticks and leaves were off of him, and he had numerous large sores on his joints. The old wolf knew that this one had been on his own for awhile to end up in this shape. Still, the pup refused to share any information about himself. He was such a defensive little lad.
"Just calm down. Where are your parents?" The old one asked, ears flickering. He was a whiskery and slim loner, but was clean-coated and wise in his ways.
"I don't have any of those," Whiskey said with a wrinkle of his nose. His green eyes rolled and a scoff left his small maw when his old rescuer gawked.
"Surely you must, you wouldn't be here without parents," the older tried. The pup scratched a sore on his ear with his overgrown hind claws and yelped after the attempt. He corrected his posture, and swiped one of his forepaws against the mucky dirt.
"I was told that they didn't want me," Whiskey said then with a bit of a shrug. He was far too interested in the rocks on the ground to bother looking at the surprise on the older wolf's face.
"Someone must have been looking after you," the male said. There was no way that a newborn pup would live without care. He laid down beside the young one, grimacing as he noticed the indents on Whiskey's sides, where his ribs were too visible. Malnourished. He must be starving.
Surly enough, the pup sifted loose a worm, and gnawed on it.
"Yes, but she's gone now."
...
Overtime, Whiskey had grown trust in the old wolf. He had started healing physically, and was now becoming a rotund young male. While the old brute wasn't an incredibly skilled hunter, he was able to pass on what information he could to the younger, and Whiskey was proving to be a worthwhile tracker.
"This way," Whiskey assured, "We're almost there."
"How can you be sure that this is the right way?"
"Trust me," Whiskey laughed. He paused to let the elder catch up to him before striding onward.
...
Darkness.
That's all was left for Whiskey there.
He paused, seeing the familiar fallen tree. The tree had been struck by lightning, and it's fallen truck had been left at an angle that was decent enough to have lived beneath. It was a dark little section, and was now overgrown by mold and weeds.
"She had brought me here, I know it," Whiskey said. He couldn't smell her anymore, and sighed.
"She could have been my mother, but she never told me that she was," Whiskey said with a small, forced swallow. "Looking back now, I'm sure she was. How else would she have known what she knows?"
"And what is that?"
"That my father thought that I was a mistake, and that it was dangerous where I was from. I think he wanted to kill us, by the way she spoke of him so little. But she assured me that I have family out there somewhere, waiting for me."
Breeding Info
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| Personality
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Special Skills
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Winter Month: 1 
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