"This will not be the end of the Clan. As long as I have breath in my lungs and strength in my body, the Clan will survive."

King
Male | 4 years, 6 months | Caucasian Shepherd Mix | Deputy | Location: Camp | Mentions: [Directly] Mourning Dove, Hawk's Cry, everyone else
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A massive dark, bear-like dog padded in the hunting part of the tribes territory, planning with determination to catch a more than decent meal for some dog in his tribe. He knew he was leaving that day for the long journey, and wanted to catch something before he left. Something big to leave there and help feed those who were staying.

The sun hadn't fully risen yet, so he still had some time to hunt before he began to head back and fully face head on the problem they had. The wind gently ruffling the fur on his magnificent figure, King padded across the grassy floor, in the part of the territory where the tribe had most typically hunted. Sniffing and observing the ground all in front of him, he noticed a little area of grass that was dented, seeming to be where an animal had laid down and he sniffed the area, identifying the animal as a beaver. Ears now perked, he began moving forward, following the scent, though this time his steps weren't as hard and he made sure he made no noise as he progressed. As soon as he heard shuffling, he immediately crouched to the ground, moving forward slowly with his tail hovering above the ground as to avoid making noise, soon spotting the animal. It was a large, female giant beaver, though it was a skinny one, considering food had been scarce for all animals. Stalking the beast, he got as close as he could, stopping when he couldn't go farther as to avoid being seen. Then he charged and, pouncing, his claws dug into the hard, firm back of his prey to trap the beaver before his teeth latched onto its neck, biting incredibly hard with a bite force stronger than that of an average dog of his breed. The beaver bit at him and he growled fiercely, watching the beaver's slower movements as it was losing a lot of blood from his bite. He snarled before charging, biting at it. King was weaker than normal due to lack of food but was enraged, snarling loudly, and he noticed the fainting-like movements of the beaver and took his chance. He charged forward and dug his long and incredibly sharp fangs into the throat of the big beast. In a matter of moments, the massive canine had killed the weaker animal with his powerful bite.

Seeing the sun get higher in the sky, King grabbed his kill before beginning to walk back to camp with the animal dragging behind him, knowing it would be wise to be there soon. Soon enough, the deputy arrived back home and entered his tribe's camp. The incredibly massive ex-rogue padded into the camp, carrying the female beaver. Intimidating brown eyes scanned the camp as dogs shuffled around in the midst of the camp. The brute soon set the animal down on the ground before him, atop the prey pile, with a grunt as he panted slight, his massive jaws parting for him to yawn as he stood there, his terrifying sharp teeth revealed. He had an extraordinary figure. He was incredibly large with firm, rock-hard muscles under his soft, short fur, his legs not lanky at all, as would be expected with his height, due to the muscles. His saber-teeth were knife-sharp and very long. And his claws were normal-lengthed but incrediby sharp. King was mainly pitch black, with a bit of gray and some tiny white speckles on the lower half of his body. He had many scars from all the battles he'd fought in his life, not taking away any of the attractiveness of the male, just adding to his already respectable and terrifying aura. His eyes were an intimidating, striking, and yet captivating brown that could easily disturb and scare some animal as he stared into one's eyes as if staring into their soul.

But, despite his usual strength, King was weaker and skinnier than normal, as prey had been scarce. It was a miracle that he found that beaver. After all, that was why he and a lot of others were being sent to some new, far away home. To find a better place to call home, with more food and water. Surprisingly, Hawk's Cry was chosen to lead the expedition, despite King being deputy, but he was okay with that. It didn't matter to him. Sighing, the large male padded over to the group of individuals that crowded, and he wondered when they would be leaving.

"This will not be the end of the Clan. As long as I have breath in my lungs and strength in my body, the Clan will survive."

King
Male | 4 years, 6 months | Caucasian Shepherd Mix | Deputy | Location: Camp | Mentions: [Directly] Mourning Dove, Hawk's Cry, Setting Sun, everyone else
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Refusal shone in the massive dog's brown eyes as Mourning Dove said he needed to eat it. He shook his head, "Respectfully, I refuse. I am strong enough, others need it more." he said, his naturally dominant and powerfully masculine voice as respectful as he could make it, though it still had the attractive deep rumbling to it. His left ear flicking idly, the large dog sat down, refusing to eat.

Looking around, King noticed the medicine trainee huffing and sitting down. The deputy could tell the trainee was against leaving, and was angry towards Mourning Dove. The male himself understood why he would be upset about leaving, but they had to go, and the trainee should respect their leader's decision anyway. But he had sympathy for the young dog. Sighing, King looked at the sky, before observing the camp. He was actually sad, though maybe not as sad as the others. He had only joined this tribe around two years ago, but he had grown fond of it. While he still didn't fit in, especially with his odd, one-worded name, he still would miss the camp and their territory.

But it was for the best. They needed to leave if they were going to survive.