a beggar for a soul

Jackal Katruk · 01-03-2012, 05:16 PM

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First post awkwardness, go! Have a novel! He's in West Berwick, really close to CdA's eastern border. Smile

/ 578 words.

Nova Scotia, he'd learned on the road from passing travelers and traders, was a hotbed of Luperci activity. Wolves, coyotes, and hybrids from all walks of life. The knowledge had made Jackal more than apprehensive about what lay ahead of them, mostly due to Fox's do-or-die mentality that had ushered them along this far. The siblings had passed not one, but three established packs on their way in from the mainland, one of which was very clearly marked by a row of skulls on stakes. Wolf skulls, Fox had noted with an edge to her usually chipper tone. It certainly wasn't the welcome Jack was expecting and they'd spent the rest of the day choosing their trails a bit more carefully at his urging.

After a heated discussion over breakfast over what their next plan of action should be, Jackal left Fox back in Berwick to salvage what goods she could from the abandoned buildings. He didn't reckon she would find much in the way of anything working or useful, as the town seemed pretty well picked through already. She disagreed, of course, and he couldn't find the energy to argue with her further over something so trivial. Admittedly, he was worried about leaving her alone for any stretch of time. They were strangers to both land and locals, and the big dark unknown masking the little knowledge he managed to glean about this area made him nervous.

But he was already thirty minutes gone from their hideout and reaching what used to be the far end of town. It was overgrown, the forest moving in and reclaiming what was once clearly defined streets. This side of Berwick was in an even greater state of disrepair than the center; trees sprouting up from beneath thick slabs of cement, weaving up through creaky, water-stained floorboards and making this vestige of human residency seem ancient in comparison to the new growth.

Another thing entirely caused him to pause and reconsider. A complex scent marker; the smell of a pack border clearly defined like a line drawn in the sand. It was not the grotesque display that the coyotes had placed to deter strangers and enemies both from their front, but the meaning was the same. The hybrid was not known for following a strict code of conduct, but he was not the kind to disrespect others without due reason. He would not overextend his curiousity, even though he was thrown into a heightened state of awareness by this impromptu discovery. Fox's safety was paramount, and if this pack proved to be ill intended, they would need to leave and quickly.

Jack reached down and gripped the hem his jeans, readjusting the belt so that they settled a bit more securely on his hips, before striding forward to get a better idea of who laid claim to this tract of land. He knelt down and placed his hand on the pavement near where the heaviest marker lay, eyes following the woodland until it became a unified tangle of forest. His ears twitched as he listened to a crow cackle overhead, echoed by his fellow murder as they winged away on the chilly winter air.

He straightened slowly as not to raise the ire of any hidden scouts, and lifted a free hand to cup around his muzzle, calling out to the pack, "Hallooo!" It carried far, bouncing off the trunks and the houses stacked like matchsticks in their pretty little rows.

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