┎------------------------------┑name;; Gero Amsel
position;; Alpha of Halvdagr
tags;; none yet
┖------------------------------┙ Gero was already up since at least 3 am. His sleep was again fitful, which he wasn't surprised with. Dreams were how the spirit connected to your body. A quiet one was at ease, or so he heard. His appeared to be more talkative. His dreams always were echoes of hunts past, the taste of blood fresh in his mouth, and the screams again loud and clear in his ears.
He never failed to wake afterwards, his mind wanting to shift and hunt dearly. His father said he should never give in to urge- that was how he succumbed to bloodlust and became no better than a feral wolf. He thought of calling a hunt later today- hunting season would soon begin and there would be a fair amount of hunters in the woods.
He heard the rest of the pack wake and slowly make their way down. He watched from his position on the kitchen table, sitting on the window ledge, his feet on a chair. In his hands was cupped a glass of tea, still warm. He looked back down to it, nursing it. His eyes were tired, and he most likely had dark circles under them. He only nodded his greeting when the members came in.