Young and free

Skoll Haskel · 06-07-2012, 02:39 PM

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(532) This sucks and is late, sorry.

Early summer warmth seeping into his golden coat, and Skoll Haskel could almost forget about the whims of the spinning world. He was no longer growing older, no longer changing and discovering these changes; he just was, and he accepted this with relief. Green eyes shut, and he stretched out in the patch of sunlight, absorbing it, made of it. Spring had only been the taste of such warmth, but this was what he had been made for. His brother had his long nights and cold shadows, but the sun prince had summer.

He might have slept forever on that hillside, in eternal bliss, if not for the hardwood trees nearby and the flying squirrels that leaped between them. A pair of them squabbled suddenly overhead, and one dropped down to land beside the young wolf, interrupting his nap. He yelped and lunged for the creature, managing to pin it underneath a still-large paw; the eyes of predator and prey locked, but the canine only released his paw and barked gruffly to send the squirrel flying up into the tree again.

Shaking his head, he remembered why he’d come here—and it wasn’t to snooze. Of all the changes occurring in his life (the return of his half-sister and her family, his promotion to sergeant, and the weird feelings originating for a particular girl), one was most obvious and very concerning. Newcomers had come to the Kingdom, the downy-furred woman Giselle and her mate, and they joined explaining that Crimson Dreams had disbanded. For some reason, the boy couldn’t believe it; if that was true, why hadn’t Alder’s family come to the Court? He didn’t know where else they would go. If Cour des Miracles suddenly split apart, he’d immediately find his own family—although he supposed bitterly that not all brothers wanted to stay with brothers.

Pushing the memory of Liam out of his mind, Skoll went over his objective. He’d wanted to come see the borders for himself, and he’d traveled through the hills until he finally approached where he thought the pack had been. His nose found only weak scents as he kept traveling, however, and his golden tail soon drooped as he moved through the old territory. He’d explored everything between the two packs, and this was all unfamiliar scenery; this must have been where Crimson Dreams made their territory.

It was empty now—or so he thought, before the scent of another luperci caught his attention. It was the wrong kind of scent, however: Cercatori d’Arte. His curiosity was piqued; had the other come to check out the old territory, too?

In his lupus form, the blonde wolfdog galloped underneath the hardwood trees. His pads fell onto spongy ground, odd for the warmth of the day, but he caught the scent of water plants and realized where he was headed. He ran faster, spotting the great still lake stretching out before him, and with a laugh forgot all about the luperci he’d intended to check out. With a running leap, he jumped into the shallows and began to splash around, rushing down the bank with pebbles under his paws and white sheets of water flying behind him.

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