01-15-2011, 06:01 PM
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I am so sorry for the wait! I'm also very rusty, so I apologize if this post is terrible, haha. (Also: I know wolves in reality will commonly kill coyotes who intrude on their territory, but in this context, it was meant to be suggestive of conflicts with Inferni and their effect on the surrounding areas.)
★ ★ ★
If there was anything Jäger was not, it was unnoticeable. He was big-boned, with a pelt shaggy under the influence of winter. His legs, the color of moist, well-fed earth, rose like dying trees beneath a brown and suffocated industrial sky. His face, the color of sun-bleached skeletons with dying coals for eyes, radiated out from the dusty taupes and oil browns of his fur, a pallid mask set against the black forest around him. The effect was eerie -- if it weren't for the stark white snow providing a canvas against which the dark curves and angles of his body could be seen, it would look as if there were a disembodied head floating through the woods.
He kept his velvety, triangular ears primed to catch any sound: instinct poked holes in the heavy, soggy papier-mâché of his existential angst; he knew it would be unwise to leave himself vulnerable to ambush in this unfamiliar new place. His bushy tail left a strange trail among the footprints in the snow behind him, similar to the bristles of a brush carving their presence into a lady's powder. There was new snowfall drifting gently down through the boughs of the trees to cover what had come before, so the artful path posed little danger. Though he was attentive, few sounds could be heard, only the occasional tweet of a tiny bird, or the claws of mice scurrying around on top of the snow. It was as a great cathedral made of trees, and it was peaceful.
The air shifted slightly, and he caught the scent of a coyote. His fur bristled, then flattened -- he was not a warlike wolf, nor one experienced with fights, but he had faith in his capability to defend himself, if it came to that. Miles away, where he had hailed from, interspecies disputes were uncommon. Along the way, he had seen wolf packs chase coyotes down steep hills with the intent to kill in their every step, and so his awareness was sharpened. There must have been a reason for that behavior that he was as yet unaware of. Jäger padded quietly forward, and when his sight fell upon the coyote, oddly marked like himself and apparently caught up in a fit of vanity, he only watched her silently, a ghost among the trees.
If there was anything Jäger was not, it was unnoticeable. He was big-boned, with a pelt shaggy under the influence of winter. His legs, the color of moist, well-fed earth, rose like dying trees beneath a brown and suffocated industrial sky. His face, the color of sun-bleached skeletons with dying coals for eyes, radiated out from the dusty taupes and oil browns of his fur, a pallid mask set against the black forest around him. The effect was eerie -- if it weren't for the stark white snow providing a canvas against which the dark curves and angles of his body could be seen, it would look as if there were a disembodied head floating through the woods.
He kept his velvety, triangular ears primed to catch any sound: instinct poked holes in the heavy, soggy papier-mâché of his existential angst; he knew it would be unwise to leave himself vulnerable to ambush in this unfamiliar new place. His bushy tail left a strange trail among the footprints in the snow behind him, similar to the bristles of a brush carving their presence into a lady's powder. There was new snowfall drifting gently down through the boughs of the trees to cover what had come before, so the artful path posed little danger. Though he was attentive, few sounds could be heard, only the occasional tweet of a tiny bird, or the claws of mice scurrying around on top of the snow. It was as a great cathedral made of trees, and it was peaceful.
The air shifted slightly, and he caught the scent of a coyote. His fur bristled, then flattened -- he was not a warlike wolf, nor one experienced with fights, but he had faith in his capability to defend himself, if it came to that. Miles away, where he had hailed from, interspecies disputes were uncommon. Along the way, he had seen wolf packs chase coyotes down steep hills with the intent to kill in their every step, and so his awareness was sharpened. There must have been a reason for that behavior that he was as yet unaware of. Jäger padded quietly forward, and when his sight fell upon the coyote, oddly marked like himself and apparently caught up in a fit of vanity, he only watched her silently, a ghost among the trees.
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