03-23-2010, 12:20 PM
.H.o.m.e.? ...An auburn ear was notched back at the notion. She frowned thoughtfully, the uncertainty swimming in her gaze ricocheting between between the strange werewolf before her, and the surrounding wood. What did she know of home??? What was home? A new prison? Panic sparked and crackled through her veins once again, and she shifted her black forefeet in agitation. No more prisons. No more chains. Her golden eyes fell to the shackles chafing her wrists...the skin where the metal met her flesh had been eroded free of hair long ago. Silvery black scars gleamed there, peeking above the rim of those iron bands.
Bony shoulders were hoisted in a shrug. Was he offering, or simply asking? Marigold hues crept up to him warily, judging his reaction to her gesture. She watched him as a field mouse might watch an owl. Ready to flinch. Ready to flee. Except, unlike the field mouse, an intense curiosity dwelled beneath the torrent of fear and uncertainty clouding her decision making processes. Here was a werewolf who did not look anything like the foul and battered brethren who'd poisoned her notion of 'home.' Oh, sure...he was a tad on the callous side...but to this she-wolf, he was a gentleman when faced with what she was accustomed to. Where did he come from? Where did he call home?
The ebony tip of her tail flickered once impatiently. As though it were a sign she'd been waiting for, dark limbs were gathered beneath her, tipping her forward precariously so that for the breadth of a moment it would seem she might topple clean over. A few steadying, staggering steps forward, the clink-chinking of her chains slithering in her wake, the she-wolf stood unsteadily before him. She gave him a long, expressionless, and determined look...then nodded. Once.
The beams of sunlight that managed to pierce the canopy above flickered and grew, illuminating the brand chipped upon the face of her broad collar that seemed almost too large for her emaciated neck. The letters were crudely wrought, crooked and uneven.
They read: 'I.s.t.a.b.e.l'
Bony shoulders were hoisted in a shrug. Was he offering, or simply asking? Marigold hues crept up to him warily, judging his reaction to her gesture. She watched him as a field mouse might watch an owl. Ready to flinch. Ready to flee. Except, unlike the field mouse, an intense curiosity dwelled beneath the torrent of fear and uncertainty clouding her decision making processes. Here was a werewolf who did not look anything like the foul and battered brethren who'd poisoned her notion of 'home.' Oh, sure...he was a tad on the callous side...but to this she-wolf, he was a gentleman when faced with what she was accustomed to. Where did he come from? Where did he call home?
The ebony tip of her tail flickered once impatiently. As though it were a sign she'd been waiting for, dark limbs were gathered beneath her, tipping her forward precariously so that for the breadth of a moment it would seem she might topple clean over. A few steadying, staggering steps forward, the clink-chinking of her chains slithering in her wake, the she-wolf stood unsteadily before him. She gave him a long, expressionless, and determined look...then nodded. Once.
The beams of sunlight that managed to pierce the canopy above flickered and grew, illuminating the brand chipped upon the face of her broad collar that seemed almost too large for her emaciated neck. The letters were crudely wrought, crooked and uneven.
They read: 'I.s.t.a.b.e.l'