I solved my problem. Cuz I'm brilliant.
I'm trying my hand at a preset for him, but for now, this is what I'll be using.
[Fenn]
[Red Fox]
[Todd]
[Elder]
[Veteran]
[Born of Kilasha(covenborn) and Trout(a loner)]
[Cress]
[Birch, Leaf, Minnow, Crow, Herja, Frog]
[Smart, old and settled, Fenn is comfortable with himself, the life he's lived and the way things are now. He enjoys relaxing and having fewer responsibilities these days, believing that he's earned the vacation after a full life. He has few, if any regrets, and likes sharing the stories of his life and the lives of others with those willing to listen. But while he spends plenty of time reminiscing, his mind is never far from the present. He is a stable, calm fox who sees things as they are, and tries to find the most practical solutions. If something needs doing, he'll step up and do it. Mostly, he is happy to please.
He does, however, have a sharp tongue in his mouth, though his bark is likely worse than his bite these days, and does not like disrespect. If he does something for someone, he appreciates acknowledgement, and likewise, if someone does something for him, he will thank them appropriately. He believes that if company isn't welcome, he is perfectly in the right to tell another off. And he has, more than once, been caught offering advice that wasn't asked for.
Fenn is still an active fox, for all his age, and while he likes the privilege of being old, he doesn't wish to become a burden on his coven. He still sometimes summons the energy to trail behind guard patrols or sneak off to hunt. Preferably where no one will be able to watch him if he messes up too often. He has his pride and dignity to think of, small though both might seem, and while he can laugh at himself readily, he can be a little more prickly when a challenge he might once have managed fairly easily is no longer within his limits. Still, he knows how to ask for help when he needs it, and won't back down simply because the odds are against him.
He might have mellowed with age, but he is still a fighter, and while his muscles aren't as strong as they once were, experience has taught him a thing or two. And he still holds to the guard mentality of being obedient, alert and steadfast before danger. Unless, of course, running is the better option.]
[Fenn grew up outside the coven. His mother having left the safety of the den in favour of privacy and being with her mate. So Fenn and his siblings grew up on the outskirts of the coven territory. They were introduced to the foxes patrolling the territory when they were old enough but it was not until they were almost able to fend for themselves that Kilasha took them to her real home. Fenn was the only one who decided to stay with the coven, his two sisters going off on their own to find their own hunting grounds.
He started training as a warrior, practicing his hunting and learning how to fight. But before he finished, his mentor passed him over to a guard and said he was better suited as one of them. He was growing into quite the sturdy fox, with a tenacity and sudden turn of speed that made him good at fighting, and outlasting his opponent. And even when dog-tired, his instincts always pressed him to go for the kill, or to disable as best he could. He did, indeed, fit among their ranks. And for most of his life, he served in that role as faithfully as a dog.
He did, however, take a break during some of his prime years. He found himself a mate outside the coven just as his mother had. Though he could not bring himself to leave it entirely to look after her and the kits that were born, he did hunt for them, and visited every day. He and Cress raised three litters together: two, then three, then one. And then Cress vanished. He still doesn't know where she went, but there was another fox in her territory when he went to find her, so he knows why she went. Practical, he accepted that she'd lost the fight and moved on, so he did too.
Though he continued to grow older, and lost much of his bulk, Fenn remained on duty until Nature forced his leader's paw. During the past year a film grew over his eyes until he can only make out vague shapes if he strains and differentiate between light and dark. If pressed hard and when alone, he will admit that stepping down as a guard was probably overdue, but to anyone else willing to humour an old fox, he prefers to keep up the illusion that losing most of his vision doesn't hamper him in the slightest. Thankfully, a fox has senses other than sight to get by, and he has his covenmates to look after him, but he'd be hard-pressed to win a fight and to trust the coven to his limited protection nowadays.]
[Standing, stock still, with one black paw raised, Fenn pricked his ears. He swiveled them at all angles, individually, together, and then forward, turning his head a little as he did. He'd heard it for sure now. The tiny chinch-chinch-chinch of sharp teeth cutting through grass. A mouse! He'd known he'd scented them nearby! Carefully, the old todd aligned himself, dropping first his rump and then his forequarters. A breath and... He leapt. He leapt high and forward, judging the distance solely by sound. His paws hit the earth again only a little before his nose, and he yelped indignantly at the pain of it, pawing his tender snout and listening, resigned, to the scurry of little feet carrying lunch away.]
[Nemai]
[Mountain Standard]
