Whispers in the Sand

[Lubomir Varg]

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      *hides under a rock with her fail*

Don't touch too much - you touch too much

      Well, wasn't she a rude one? Lubomir could recall a time when respect meant something, but perhaps the Old Country was called that for a good reason: perhaps it was just too outdated. Apparently being polite with your elders no longer meant anything in these lands. When she spat at him, he was almost hit, but the old wolf had enough presence of mind to step aside. He looked at the spot where the saliva had hit and he could not conceal the look of pure disgust on his face. How dare she spit at him like that? Her words made even less sense and he was starting to think that perhaps she was slightly insane, but her tone of voice really grated on his nerves. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. She was only a puppy, he had to remember that. "Why in the world would I want to eat you? If you don't mind me saying, you don't look very appetizing." Lubomir eyed her wearily when she loaded the dart, prepared to move away again if need be.



      And it seemed she wouldn't stop it. Lubomir couldn't quite imagine why in the world he wasn't just giving up and going home, but perhaps it was his own foolishness which kept him from leaving. He had a right to. "You say that as if I hurt you! I don't even know who you are. Now put that thing down before you hurt yourself." The grey male couldn't understand why she would hate him so much. He'd never seen her before in his life, why would he want to hurt her, or Fenrir forbid, eat her?

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