03-20-2010, 09:20 PM
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Free on the rolling hills and grassy plains was absolute paradise for the beast. He’d lived enough in the cities and villages, but feral and wild was his perfection. All four paws pounding against the ground, effortlessly carrying the svelte creature across the landscape, he ran without any regard. Of course, sloth was his sin and laziness his mantle, so to find the wolfhound bounding steadily across the horizon was a rare sight indeed. The weather was yet cool, but his shaggy coat did its work in keeping him warm enough for comfort. Regardless, the thought of a crackling fire entered his thoughts and so he returned to his makeshift campsite at the base of a tree to assemble dry wood into a decent pyramid. A quick spark to nestled kindling and he seated himself Indian-style with his hands spread out over the warm, rising flames, drinking in their expelled energy. Another sort of drink he deemed suitable as well and slipped a bottle from his bag, taking a swig from the cool glass. And now, decidedly set up with a fire and drink, he found that he desired company with an almost immediately striking longing. Idly flicking tiny rocks and twigs into his fire, the wolfhound was terribly bored and unbearably lonely. He’d since abandon the crew he’d arrived with, traveling north with no true destination in mind. He hadn’t even a clue how the locals would behave toward him, being of a different species and country origin. But he was a generally good-natured beast—a gentle giant if you will, with an easy smile that remained the only reason he ever found need to bare his fangs under normal circumstances. Stretching, he lay back on the grass and peered up toward the sky heavily laden with clouds. Rain was coming, but he felt hopeful it would wait until evening before bothering him. Of course, where he’d come from rain was a common occurrence, but he couldn’t help appreciating a dry, clean pelt devoid of mud and chill. |