((It doesn’t matter who approaches Keegan.))
Keegan ● 3 years ● Solar Moon ● Fighter
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Keegan wasn’t lazy. Was it his fault that his den faced away from the rising sun and left him to wake on his own accord? It had never been expected of him to rise early – had never been expected of anyone in the family, save for Fey, who was practically obsessed – and Sophia was rather lenient. The russet-gold wolf stood, stretching like a cat as he did so, a yawn escaping his muzzle, and sauntered out of the den, blinking as daylight assaulted his eyes. Many wolves were already up and milling about at this point; it looked as if he had been one of the last to rise, as usual. It didn’t bother him; he barely noticed it.
His ears pricked up as a howl wafted along a lazy breeze. Raised with the knowledge that a howl would bring only attention and that when you were a loner, attention could very well mean death, it took him a moment to decipher the meaning. When it finally came to him, he gave a rather belated shake of the head. He was a fighter, not a hunter, and had not done much of the latter since he had joined this pack; his skills would be rusty anyway and he’d be more of a burden than an asset to the pack as one, now that he had been working on his fighting more.
Intense golden eyes swept the camp as Keegan strode forward, searching for someone to talk to.