you make your way deeper into the canyons, the sides towering over you. the snow whirls around you, and you quickly glance at your surroundings. no movement save that of the snow appears, and you walk on, shoulders hunched against the snow. paw prints sunk deep into the snow are scattered around you, disappearing under layers of snowfall. your gaze runs over the endless white, then stops suddenly at a flash of red. you walk towards it, and stare down. bloody pawprints leading away from you. you blink, and start to follow. over a frozen river, ice broken in some places, red dying the water. the tracks must be fresh, you realize, and pic up speed. as you walk along, following the tracks, you suddenly come to realize that they've stopped suddenly, disappeared. you stare around you, then start as a low growl comes from behind you.

you take a step back away quickly, startled. the bryar snarls slightly, showing sharp teeth, and you stare at him. stitches decorate his face, over his right blue eye, and the left side of his face... a green eye stares out at you, that side stitched on, blood welling from the scars. tattered remains of ears flicker as he stands defensively, the tip of one a different color, a bright ginger compared to the deep murky gold of his natural coat. you stare at his injuries, unbelieving. a portion of his chest fur has been ripped away, through skin and muscle, revealing the striking white ribs against the deep crimson blood that flows near it. stitches over it, but not protecting it, and you stare. one foot, his right front paw, doesn't seem to be his, but is the same ginger color as the ear. he shifts his weight, eyeing you, and you realize that he uses it as it is natural, if not lightly. the stitches extend around the leg, sewing the paw on, to be used. his left leg has a gash down the inside, stitched and held together with strip of black fur. you stare at his bony shoulders, ribs showing, gashes on his hindquarters. his tail... it too seems not to be all his. dark brown and silver fur against his gold coat, stitched together to form a whole tail. his wings, they at least seem to be whole, though spiked as a dragons are at the wingtip. he bares his teeth again at your silence, daring you to speak, but before you get a chance, he does. his voice is low, a deep echo of what it once must of been. "You tresspass unbidden. What is it you wish?" he stares at you with miscolored eyes, the blue one glinting sharp in your direction. he blinks, and the trance is broken, you quickly glance away. he eyes you a moment, then goes on. "I live here, in this area. Why is it you have come? No. Do not answer. It will be wrong, whatever you say." a slight snarl of distaste, then he calms. "I am Suffer, Bryar Wolf, from The Bryar's Canyon. Survivor of the Dark Wars." he meets your gaze once more. "Surely you wonder. As you must. I would not have survived had there not been a white Bryar nearby. As it is, I am glad that I was given this chance." he lifts his head, mouth in a fierce smile. "And I entend to survive." he gives a shake of his head. "There is nothing for you here, stranger. Be on your way, away. I will wander and scout to make sure you leave safely. There are dangers in this part of the mountain canyons." you nod, welcome for the strange Bryar's protection, though not quite all trusting of it. Suffer gives you one last stare, then turns away, as you do, continueing onward.