[M] Who knows where I'll be tomorrow...

Anatole Aston · 01-18-2012, 12:50 AM

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(429)I left this open to see where it goes. :>

The winter wore on and with it prey began to weaken. Anatole was thrilled with such developments. Since his…encounter with the woman, his blood had run hot. While not a man who sought out such evils as his father, he carried the shadow in his blood. Simple desires fueled him as they did all primal things; he desired sex and food and desired to find both in the easiest way possible. Dried meat was available for such things, but he wanted hot flesh and hot blood to fill his need.

Alone, he could not handle the wapiti. This was true only when he was a wolf; in the larger Secui form his weight made up for this. So he went to hunt.

Muscles rippled under his hide, a shade of black and rust that merged with his mother’s pale tan. He had often asked her about why he was so dark when she was white, and he had learned that his father was a tar-black thing. His mother had not spoken much of the man, and avoided the question as to where he was. She was blunt about all things; either dead, she had said, or gone. It did not matter. Anatole was her son and he did not need a father. As long as he remembered that then there was no need for him to go on brooding over such things. It was not the way of the wolf.

This was; to hunt and kill with tooth and claw. He traveled through the terrain as if it was his own and not that of the Tribe. He was the Tribe. Born into it, raised in the wilderness yet, but oh how he had made this home his. Anatole did not hold rank here, but in his mind and his behavior, he answered to no one. Ulilohi alone held his respect, for she reminded him of his mother and she was the leader of this place now. She carried herself well and this alone was what he admired.

For now, though, this land was his. The massive wolf slunk through the brush and began seeking the trail of the migratory herd. His pace slowed only as he spotted a pale shape moving towards him from the village. Well, not towards him, but in his direction. Anatole stilled and lifted his head, nose twitching. The air around the coyote radiated with aggression, and his own testosterone rose to meet it. Yet he kept himself still and calm; it would do no good to attack a fellow member for no reason.

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