(--)
Vasiliy is by me!
The granite-furred Russian was enjoying his time in Cercatori thus far. He had browsed over much of the territory, spending a few hours appraising the beaches, the forests, and all else within the pack's lands. He had yet to add any decoration to the pack's border tree, but he was trying to think of something. Vasi was not much of an artist, but creation was something he was capable of. He had helped to build boats in Sobirat'sya and sailed them too, and perhaps he would be able to put this skill to use here.
Vasiliy enjoyed the forests of this place -- they were not so vast and tall as the ones in his homeland, but they were wonderful nonetheless. There were many of them arching overhead, pressing close together and blocking much of the sky. The occasional beam of golden, deep afternoon light filtered through this thick canopy, and the Russian listened to the cries of various sorts of birds, along with the rustle and scramble of small animals. There was another sound, too -- a peculiar scraping sound. His ears perked, and he followed it as it grew louder, happening across the small youth. She was old enough to shift, but her figure was still childish, perhaps half Vasiliy's own age.
Allo, he greeted, hesitating to make himself comfortable without her permission. Perhaps she wished to keep on carving and would wave him along; there was no sense sitting down only to have to get up a moment later.
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