Canidae

[Liev Morozov]

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# Character Name: Liev Ivanovich Morozov
# Character Birthdate (including year): January 3rd, 2005
# Luperci Ortus
# Species: Canis lupus communis ortus (Russian Wolf)
# Gender: Male
# A secondary form of contact: marinaliz123@gmail.com (E-mail)
# How you found 'Souls: I already played here 8D

Aah, the snow. The old familiar feeling of the frozen soft ground under his paw pads felt so good. Brought so many memories. Good ones, bad ones, but memories nevertheless. And they were all he had now. Ever since he left, all he had was himself, his backpack and the General. It was thansk to him he had walked half the world searching for his "rightful place", so he said.

He stopped for a second, sitting on his heels, spinning his head and ears all around, absorving everything he could from the whole scenario. The General had left his mark everywhereas he went, as usual. The snow was all over the trees and ground, though the sudden break of sunlight through the scattering clouds had a few drops of water dripping off the leaves. The forest seemed rather silent, since many animals were either hiding from the cold or hybernating, but a bird could be heard now and then. The scents were dimmed because of the cold and the water, but there was a faint smell of other wolves, and something over the air. Something almost.... dark, and magical. He was used to that aura, seeing that his former pack practiced Wiccan witchcraft, and the whole feeling it gave around the camps were similar to that, but not all that... massively. It used to be just half a dozen wolves, but here seemed like... a whole pack.

Odd.

He started trotting towards what seemed to be the source of the whole thing, and noticed a sudden wind going toward the same direction. "As you wish, sir." He muttered to himself, and kept running.

Running on fours while Optime could be quite clumsy at first, but being trainned to run like that through multiple ocasions and landscapes, you get used to that. For his pack, staying on the Optime form was sort of a matter of survival. During a blizzard, whatever you might face on the wild forests, the best way to fight was on your bipedal form. Besides, yielding weapons were much easier with thumbs.

Soon, the scent of wolves and the magical aura grew stronger and stronger, to the point the atmosphere seemed to be pulsing around him, like a beating heart. His pace fastened everytime the air pressed against him, stronger and stronger as he drew nearer.
Suddenly, he stopped fully in mid step, one of his paw/hand hovering over the air. Over an invisible boundary. The wind blew softly but cold on his ears, as if an halt order. He mustn't cross it. "Yessir." He whispered dryly to the wind, and sat on his knees again, facing the invisible wall, as if he couldn't see ahead of it.

With a loud snort, he lowered his face to the ground, sniffing. Yes, definetly the limits of a pack. And a territorial one, for sure. The dominant scent on it was so intense, the wolves must off make clear trespassing was NOT allowed. He sighed.

Falling on his butt, he bit his lower lip, not sure how to proceed. He figured howling would work, but he did not wish to have the whole pack quicking him out, if it would be the case. However, nothing more subttle occured to him. The wind kept blowing toward that forbidden land, ordering him to join it, no matter what.

Rolling his eyes, he backed up until his bare back met the rough bark of a tree, and throwing his backpack to his lap, he searched for the one thing that made him relax. Finally feeling the familiar cold and sleek sensation of metal on the tip of his fingers, he pulled the instrument out, and the silvery glow of the trumpet made him smile, and the multiple songs he knew started to scroll around his mind, along with the memories they carried with them. Then, he chose the very first one he learned.

Lips on the tip of the tube, lungs full of air, fingers over the keys at ready. With the first blow into the metal object, came the first notes. As the notes flowed into the air, the song took shape. Inside his mind, the lyrics came along.

"I see trees of green... red roses too
I see them bloom... for me and you
And I think to myself... what a wonderful world

I see skies of blue... and clouds of white
The bright blessed day... the dark say good night
And I think to myself... what a wonderful world

The colors of the rainbow... so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces... of people going by
I see friends shaking hands.... sayin' "how do you do?"
They're really sayin' "I love you""

Soon, the forest seemed to quiet down (even more) just to listen to the performance. He only hoped only the whole pack wasn't nearby to do the hopely warm welcome to the stranger at the boarders.