WC: 431
Sorry for taking forever, bogged down with work and internet issues >.<
Blue eyes glared down at the very dead and rather bloody corpse before him; he couldn't help but simply and clueless stare at it, in a state of shock and lost for words. The blood from it's throat had begun to seep into the dirt beneath it, the wind not that strong but no doubt carrying the scent of death to those nearby. Irritation surged through him and he ran a hand idly through his scruffy hair; the mess had been hastily pulled back into a ponytail that morning so that it would be out of his way. Never before had he managed such a fluke-like kill and the fact that the knife had connected and seriously wounded the goat disturbed him as much as he took pride in the kill. With a grunt, he brought himself up into a standing position, dusting his hands across his jeans, blue eyes remaining cast down onto the dead creature. Out of habit, he slid his thumbs into his jeans front pockets, his arms bent and relaxed as he found himself now frowning, still deep in a mental debate whether to leave the kill or drag it back to the howling caverns.
It was a stupid and utterly pointless debate, but he was too lazy to carry the creature but his love and loyalty to his pack told him that he should donate the kill to the pack stores. Decisions, decisions... a heavy sigh escaped his lips and he began to turn away from the goats slowly cooling corpse, having decide to catch a smaller critter on his way back home. A soft breeze caressed his retreating form and he slowly turned his head, blue eyes scanning the immediate area around him. It was then he noted that he was no longer alone.
Scrunching up his nose, his tail failing deadly still, he tested the scent once more, surprised to find that his company was not a luperci. Once, a seemingly distant time ago, his father had mentioned such creatures, but he had never came face to face with one. Curious thing, isn't she? The though filled his mind as he contemplated reasonable reasons as to why one would choose not to be a luperci, but he found none. To him, it seemed foolish to restrain oneself to a single form when having multiple came in handy.
“You're abit on the small side, ain't ya?” he spoke the thought allowed, the sentence coming out more of a question than a statement, his eyes flashing down to the corpse and back to the small coyote.
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