and onward we go (Leader needed)

Skoll Haskel · 09-03-2012, 09:38 AM

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(423) I'm not a leader, but as far as I know that's all you need. Smile Anyway, welcome!

His mother’s condition was worsening, and Cour des Miracles had yet to find the man responsible for the assault. That fact burned in the growing boy more than anything other than a growing sense of distress. The youngest litter of the King and self-proclaimed queen would be turning a year old in only a couple of weeks; would his mother even be alive for their birthday? It was thoughts like this that brought the young wolfdog to his knees, hunkering on the ground and fighting back grief when it wasn’t yet time to grieve. Yet was the strongest word he knew.

Until then, the main way for Skoll to fight these emotions was to patrol so much that he couldn’t do anything else. The Captain stomped in the neutral territories around the pack and traveled along the border and kept his ears and eyes open for danger. He made use of the endurance that came from all his breeds—wolf and dog—and worked even as his namesake chased the sun below the horizon.

It was moments like these that the Haskel desired to trade off with Hati, but he didn’t know how his darker brother was coping. Maybe he was working the horses as hard as Skoll was working himself, or maybe he was spending every instant with their mother as he could. For once, Skoll couldn’t begrudge him his actions. There was no time left for petty fights anymore, not when the world was like this.

Usually, the boy’s patrols did not pay off, and he would go home without seeing or smelling anything. Tonight, as the last sliver of the sun winked from the sky, he caught a whiff of scent that did not belong and that was close to the borders. His hackles rising, he set off in that direction, loping along on four paws. Suspicion was the normally optimistic teenager’s first instinct, but he swallowed any overt aggression as he came to the edge of the territory and spotted him—a mass of fluff, visible in the encroaching darkness by the stark whiteness of his thick pelt.

“You there,” Skoll called, and was pleased by the authoritative sound of his voice. “You’re close to the borders of Cour des Miracles.” His mouth remained open, but the next question slipped his mind (something about asking him what he was doing here? His purpose? It all sounded so formal), and so he shut his jaw and stood there trying to be as strong and important as a yearling could be.

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