Blackwolf IA desert scavenger, alone, thirsty, tired, hungry, half crazed. All of these things are his constant feelings. He knows them like breathing, like heart beating. He walks the hard pan on the balls of his bare, calloused feet. Clawed toes scratch at the dirt, leaving tracks that are not a man's, but an animal's.He is an animal, though he was once told he was a man. No man looks like this. Men do not have claws, desert scavengers hunting for carrion do. Vagrant mutants do, hunted and hated by men. His eyes are yellow, and glow in the soft muted night lights of moons and stars. His ears are large like the night jackals. His hands, something lik