09-18-2010, 10:10 AM
With the moon as his celestial guide, Synder Flare padded along the sodden sand of the beach. Swells of white crested sea roiled tumultuously, then leapt forward to gnaw the beach and slather it with foam. His paws were engulfed, saturating him from hocks down in chilly water. There was something about the briny, crisp scent of the ocean he was coming to love. Perhaps because it was a novelty, never having witnessed it in his life. He craved the valleys, cold mountain passes and treacherous ledges, but he also was learning to loved the silty, shifting feeling of sand beneath his pads and the way the waves sucked at his legs as they retreated hastily back down the beach to churn again before their next leap. Synder had found the beach due to his desire to explore. Bris had already shown him around the main towns, but they had met none at that time of night. The white Jager had other things to do and thus left him to his own deductions.
His paws had carried him to the edge of the world and he had stared out with great fascination for many a minute, just breathing in the unique tang. Synder had been walking, leaving lupine tracks in his wake, for the better part of an hour. The scrub grass that had tufted the sandy dunes was slowly evolving into more lush faire and finally, in the distance, a sprawling meadow. There were still a handful of rebellious wildflowers, daring to bloom despite the threat of October frost. As there was no end in sight to the beach, Synder made a detour to the meadow. He shook his pelt as he walked, spraying droplets of salty water and sand that had clung to his alabaster leg feathers and underbelly. He was quite shaggy, his mottled black on white pelt making him appear broader and bulkier than he already was.
As he came closer to the meadow, he heard the soft crinkling of dried grasses and the gentle whuffle of breathing. His jaws ground together and his triangular black ears flung forward, then teased back. Someone lay just over the ridge and out of his sight. Should he call out and make himself known? Was he even still in Dahlia? Having not met anyone from the pack other than Bris, he doubted they would know a new member had been named. It might be asking for trouble to just abruptly interrupt someone elses nightly wanderings. Despite his instincts growling disapproval, Synder sided with safety. “Hello?” He called quietly, his deep voice a rumble akin to the sea. “Someone there?” He asked again, feeling momentarily childish. With great care, he padded up the sand dune and crested the meadow, allowing it to roll out before him like a welcoming carpet. And there the other was, amongst the flora. He stood his ground, but lowered his head respectfully, tail hanging listlessly between his hocks. Non threatening posture, but certainly not groveling.
His paws had carried him to the edge of the world and he had stared out with great fascination for many a minute, just breathing in the unique tang. Synder had been walking, leaving lupine tracks in his wake, for the better part of an hour. The scrub grass that had tufted the sandy dunes was slowly evolving into more lush faire and finally, in the distance, a sprawling meadow. There were still a handful of rebellious wildflowers, daring to bloom despite the threat of October frost. As there was no end in sight to the beach, Synder made a detour to the meadow. He shook his pelt as he walked, spraying droplets of salty water and sand that had clung to his alabaster leg feathers and underbelly. He was quite shaggy, his mottled black on white pelt making him appear broader and bulkier than he already was.
As he came closer to the meadow, he heard the soft crinkling of dried grasses and the gentle whuffle of breathing. His jaws ground together and his triangular black ears flung forward, then teased back. Someone lay just over the ridge and out of his sight. Should he call out and make himself known? Was he even still in Dahlia? Having not met anyone from the pack other than Bris, he doubted they would know a new member had been named. It might be asking for trouble to just abruptly interrupt someone elses nightly wanderings. Despite his instincts growling disapproval, Synder sided with safety. “Hello?” He called quietly, his deep voice a rumble akin to the sea. “Someone there?” He asked again, feeling momentarily childish. With great care, he padded up the sand dune and crested the meadow, allowing it to roll out before him like a welcoming carpet. And there the other was, amongst the flora. He stood his ground, but lowered his head respectfully, tail hanging listlessly between his hocks. Non threatening posture, but certainly not groveling.