Woe of a wolf

Orin Takekuro · 08-22-2010, 02:33 PM

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WC 500+

She knew something was wrong the moment she slipped her thin body through the gates that enclosed the Chein Hotel. The iron groaned on its hinges as it was gently nudged open just enough to let the ivory woman slide through, and then protested again as she offhandedly pushed the latch closed. When Orin spun on her toes to face the Hotel, the place that was her pack’s home but that she had abandoned for weeks, her eyelids flew open and her honey-eyes bulged with shock.

Though at first it was assumed she was being reclusive as she so often does, (and at first she was) Orin had actually not been at the hotel at all for the last few weeks. First she had suffered another studious bout of book-worming from which not even the persuasions of her brother could get her to emerge. Later, in a streak of curiosity and adventure she stole away from the Hotel and into the Cour’s forests. It was likely Orin had not had a real sense of how long she had been gone. Certainly she knew the moons that had passed, and could track the day and night back to a summation of how long she had been gone. But when enraptured in some quest, it was not inaccurate to believe that Orin did not feel time passing in the fashion many others did. So it wasn’t until she was finally bored with the fantasy she had been living that she came back to the Chien Hotel, expecting to find Niro and everything exactly as she had left it as though only a day had passed.

Of course, she was wrong.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of the body lying on the porch. The granite fur made her start for at first glance she would always relate gray fur with her brother. She took a step, but began to relax already. . . This could not be Niro. Why was the wolf lying on his belly, in Lupus form, contorted in that way as though in agony? She sighed with relief, it wasn’t Niro.

But two more steps and she saw the clearly defined gunmetal shock of stiff fur on his neck that made up Niro’s trademark mohawk. Swallowing hard, she closed the distance between them in a breath. Despite being a flurry of fear and worry, Orin’s grace had improved tenfold while she had been away, and her dainty feet hurried around Niro without threat of landing a clumsy accidental stomp or kick on her injured brother.

“Niro! What’s wrong? What happened?” She squawked as she knelt down beside him and began mentally cataloging his injuries. There was a thump somewhere next to them as she dropped her pack which undoubtedly carried her books and supplies. Light fingers gently brushed the fur on the nape of his neck, but did not bore deeper until she knew just how and where he was injured. She bit her lip in concern, and was about to start another round of interrogation but held back, realizing she had to at least give him time to answer the first.

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