ice age heat wave
#9
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Ari was surprised to find someone who was interested in — if not liked — art. Back in his former pack, everyone had a meaningful job, and things such as the arts, music, poetry, and writing fiction were generally frowned upon. Here, however, that didn't seem the case at all. Looking at the cinnamon-hued girl with interest, he listened as the words cascaded from her. He nodded, as she neared the end, thinking he should swing by her den and get some charcoal (it would be nice to draw on the walls of his den, make it more interesting). He shrugged sheepishly as she commented that he made his paint with water. "Watercolor" was perhaps what he was going for, but water back at home was much more thick than it was here. You could practically paint with the mud. He had been finding it hard to make paint how he was used to, but what she said about pine resin was interesting. There were very few, if any, pines in the marshlands. He would have to see about this resin.


Yes, I probably could, he said generally, shrugging once more. He was used to very basic paint — usually black or a dark brown or green. He didn't paint traditionally; his paintings were a bit more primitive. He liked simple outlines of things, without any color usually. The inside of his den would, in time, look like it was covered in cave paintings of old. Still, what she had said about drawing letters made him interested. There was only two or three wolves back at home who could read and write; he wondered where she had learned.

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