*He was too late... the silver arrow had punctured deep into his mates chest, the blood matted fur making his stomach churn with anger. Anger that he could not protect him from the hunter, that he was not there to warn his wolven mate. Growling he looks back, the haze of fog masking all but the shadow of the retreating hunter. The husky growled low and threatening, reflexively baring his teeth thinking the thoughts of vengeance he would enact. But for he needed to take care of this wound, there would be time to track him down soon enough.*
Having been playing Oblivion a lot lately, i thought it would be fun to think, "what if i lived in Cyrodil?" well, in a land riddled with corrupt guards, bandits, and hunters... peace is such a relative thing...
This commission i took by chance and it turned out amazing, check out more of this artist's stuff here:
