05-31-2010, 12:34 AM
The raindrops spattered against his dorsal-striped back, rolling gently off of his fur as he strolled near the southeastern edge of Rabbit Lake. His pink tongue lolled lazily as he trotted in the shallows, a thin wall of water spraying up as he pounced at a fish. He half-heartedly sniffed once or twice before nonchalantly continuing to watch the curious minnows dart between his red-tipped toes. With a wily grin he prepared to plunge his muzzle into the water and snap at them simply to see if he could snatch one, but something seemed amiss and distracted gray-black male from his aimless games.
He jerked his head up, the silvery patches in the corners of his indigo-black eyes almost glowing against his slate gray fur. The scent of a pack was strong along the boundaries - but there was one that was stronger: smoke. It was light yet pungent, unmistakable to such a keen nose, and James' curiosity was ignited. Without hesitation he waded out of the shallows, his chest plowing against the resistant, clear waters. A single vigorous shake was all that it took to dry off and he began following the smoke effortlessly around the lakes outskirts.
Silently he walked, padding on nimble limbs towards the glowing fire. His eyes swirled with intrigue as he beheld a figure near the flames, though he couldn't quite make out definite details in the dusky evening. A pile of deer bones caught his attention momentarily and he plucked a nearly bleached rib from the carnage before continuing further. James was only a year old, and his slim frame was riddled with lean muscle. He hoped it would fill out eventually, but figured it wasn't too terrible since he only looked truly scrawny the Lupus form (which he was currently in).
It was difficult to completely make out the wolf's form from his distance, yet by scent he knew it was a male whose scent matched the pack borders. He approached the stranger, maintaining a polite distance between them. His black tipped tail lay relaxed against his haunches and his head was at a respectful height - he didn't know who he was about to encounter, and he was the one intruding on pack lands. The deer rib hang slack in his jaws, clicking hollowly against his teeth with each lazy bite. Soon it hit the damp ground with a dull thud, and James stood still.
"Whatcha got there?" he spoke with a mild Midwestern accent, offhandedly tapping the white-tipped claw on his left forepaw against the bone. James yawned, taking a moment to glance at the darkening sky.
He jerked his head up, the silvery patches in the corners of his indigo-black eyes almost glowing against his slate gray fur. The scent of a pack was strong along the boundaries - but there was one that was stronger: smoke. It was light yet pungent, unmistakable to such a keen nose, and James' curiosity was ignited. Without hesitation he waded out of the shallows, his chest plowing against the resistant, clear waters. A single vigorous shake was all that it took to dry off and he began following the smoke effortlessly around the lakes outskirts.
Silently he walked, padding on nimble limbs towards the glowing fire. His eyes swirled with intrigue as he beheld a figure near the flames, though he couldn't quite make out definite details in the dusky evening. A pile of deer bones caught his attention momentarily and he plucked a nearly bleached rib from the carnage before continuing further. James was only a year old, and his slim frame was riddled with lean muscle. He hoped it would fill out eventually, but figured it wasn't too terrible since he only looked truly scrawny the Lupus form (which he was currently in).
It was difficult to completely make out the wolf's form from his distance, yet by scent he knew it was a male whose scent matched the pack borders. He approached the stranger, maintaining a polite distance between them. His black tipped tail lay relaxed against his haunches and his head was at a respectful height - he didn't know who he was about to encounter, and he was the one intruding on pack lands. The deer rib hang slack in his jaws, clicking hollowly against his teeth with each lazy bite. Soon it hit the damp ground with a dull thud, and James stood still.
"Whatcha got there?" he spoke with a mild Midwestern accent, offhandedly tapping the white-tipped claw on his left forepaw against the bone. James yawned, taking a moment to glance at the darkening sky.