taxidermied terrors

Skoll Haskel · 08-11-2012, 04:29 PM

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For Lilith. Lemme know immediately if scrolling tables give you trouble. Smile

Word Count → 316

A creamy-yellow werewolf stalked the Atlantic shoreline, his bulky secui form pausing every once in a while to shake damp sand from large paws. He cast the rough waves rushing up the rocky beach a somewhat nervous look, flashing back once again to the time he’d been washed out to sea—and more recently when an urchin had gashed his leg when he came to the rescue of a young Court pup. He still had the scar there, barely visible through the thin fur on his hind leg, but it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t ugly, and he could always spin the story a little; maybe it was a shark’s tooth that scraped him instead of a spike ball.

Skoll Haskel grinned lightly at the thought, but his toothy smile faded as he looked ahead. He had traveled all over Nova Scotia with Terra, but it was a lot different to be out here on his own. He wasn’t scared, exactly, but he was definitely cautious. His nostrils flared as he tested the air, inhaling only the briny wind, and his pale ginger ears swiveled every time he imagined a noise. He had some advantage in his muscular form, both for taking hits and fleeing, but he knew that he wasn’t that great of a fighter. He told himself that, so long as no one snuck up on him like they had Niro, he would be fine.

He continued to wander northeast, following the coast, until the strong odor of pack markers struck him. He hesitated, ears flattening and thick scruff bristling, and tried to place the smell, but he simply wasn’t familiar with the northern packs. He stared at the foothills beyond the border, loitering despite himself, and remembered the trouble he’d gotten into with Terra near the Casa di Cavalieri boundary. He stayed firmly on the neutral side, though, too curious to run off.

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