01-13-2011, 12:57 AM
[html]407 words. Wheeee! For record's sake, this was before he returned back to Thornbury, had the fight with Skye, etc.
Word traveled on the winds pretty fast in the art pack, especially of the visitors that recently came to pay a visit. But several other, more dramatic events had gone on recently, and all Bangle wanted to do was get away. He had yet to see these strangers, who he heard were near the Hunting Lodge. That morning he rolled up his working mat, packing several tools and items with him. The coywolf wasn't sure if he'd be successful selling anything when he wasn't going to wander far from the pack, but that never stopped the traveler before.
Currently, as he wandered with staff in hand to a more secluded part of the pack, in an open clearing, his thoughts lay heavy on his mind. What kind of trouble were Orin and Sky in, now? It was obvious to everyone that they broke rules, and Bangle was curious as to what they were going to have to do. It bothered the coywolf more that Skye had been there, and noticed him observing the fight from up in his snow covered oak tree. Her brown eyes burned up at him that day, and the coyote mix couldn't shake them from his vision.
What he also saw in those eyes, though, were pain. He had been avoiding her for the longest time, even during Cercatori d'Arte's celebration. Ever since that day at the oasis, he had avoided her. And today was no different, as Bangle carefully rolled out his working mat in silence, struggling with his thoughts. Everyone was angry, at one another, for several reasons. Wintertime normally did this to others, being cooped up, tensions mounting, stress at its peak from many factors. Luckily it was somewhat sunny that day, and the air was clear.. for now. Jamming his multicolored staff into the ground after everything was settled, he sat in front of his work mat.
But Bangle's hands did not move.. thy did not carve, cut, weave, punch, or embed. All he could think about was that day she sat by his work mat, carving the rib bone. He almost still felt her presence there, and Bangle shut his bright orange eyes for a moment. He breathed silently into the cold air, before slowly opening his eyes again. As the coywolf sat there cross legged in front of his wares, he was thinking of nothing and everything at once.
But most importantly, he was thinking of leaving.
Word traveled on the winds pretty fast in the art pack, especially of the visitors that recently came to pay a visit. But several other, more dramatic events had gone on recently, and all Bangle wanted to do was get away. He had yet to see these strangers, who he heard were near the Hunting Lodge. That morning he rolled up his working mat, packing several tools and items with him. The coywolf wasn't sure if he'd be successful selling anything when he wasn't going to wander far from the pack, but that never stopped the traveler before.
Currently, as he wandered with staff in hand to a more secluded part of the pack, in an open clearing, his thoughts lay heavy on his mind. What kind of trouble were Orin and Sky in, now? It was obvious to everyone that they broke rules, and Bangle was curious as to what they were going to have to do. It bothered the coywolf more that Skye had been there, and noticed him observing the fight from up in his snow covered oak tree. Her brown eyes burned up at him that day, and the coyote mix couldn't shake them from his vision.
What he also saw in those eyes, though, were pain. He had been avoiding her for the longest time, even during Cercatori d'Arte's celebration. Ever since that day at the oasis, he had avoided her. And today was no different, as Bangle carefully rolled out his working mat in silence, struggling with his thoughts. Everyone was angry, at one another, for several reasons. Wintertime normally did this to others, being cooped up, tensions mounting, stress at its peak from many factors. Luckily it was somewhat sunny that day, and the air was clear.. for now. Jamming his multicolored staff into the ground after everything was settled, he sat in front of his work mat.
But Bangle's hands did not move.. thy did not carve, cut, weave, punch, or embed. All he could think about was that day she sat by his work mat, carving the rib bone. He almost still felt her presence there, and Bangle shut his bright orange eyes for a moment. He breathed silently into the cold air, before slowly opening his eyes again. As the coywolf sat there cross legged in front of his wares, he was thinking of nothing and everything at once.
But most importantly, he was thinking of leaving.