09-12-2008, 01:24 PM
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Hi! :3
wc486 -- At no time in his life could Jefferson recall ever being a 'morning person', or one who could get up at the rack of dawn and be able to actually accomplish something significant without somehow passing out in the meantime--that is to say, falling asleep. The male quite enjoyed sleep himself, and in his current, malnourished situation, sleep had been a beneficial factor in recovering his health and strength. The past couple months had left him unnaturally--and quite eerily, really--thin and bony, toppling this way and that and commonly losing his balance even at a nonchalant stride. Jefferson had found the extra amounts of sleep he'd been getting to be slowly beginning to work, but the past few nights had not been so kind. All the new change, from a life of singularity to a packlife where he had hardly seen 'his' pack (and had been afraid to, especially if Deuce and he crossed paths once more), thus the feeling of packlife wasn't exactly much different from how he'd lived before. Insomnia had set in for a night or two, and as a result, Jefferson had temporarily become a 'morning person' in the end. Having not yet found a den or something similar in the packlands he'd hardly began to root through, the wolf had spent his sleepless nights of late under trees, on rocks, etc. where comfort and stability were of no assurance when it came to actually resting. His senses and instincts were already delayed by his emaciation, thus sleeping out in the open... not a wise choice. But somehow or other, he'd managed to shift for some time to make traveling a bit easier--two functioning legs were better than three out of four--but hunger had put him down to rest as always. Cattle looked delicious; too bad he was in no condition to nab one. A sigh. The one-eyed menace sat with folded legs beneath a lazy tree, enjoying the shade from the sunlight and the odd tranquility he found in the concept of 'packlife', although it had yet to really occur to him. Jefferson was not exactly hopping like a madman in hopes to find his packmates, as he had no idea who or how many they were, but as long as they didn't mind coyote hybrids he found no particular reason to be worried. His arm in a rather makeshift sling, the beast stared out sleepily with his one eye as another figure began to move past. A morning person, no doubt. He glanced down and retrieved a small twig from the ground. What an idiotic habit; he placed it in his mouth and chewed on its end and watched it twirl as it jutted from his maw. "You smile too early," he grumbled aloud, watching after Pendzez indifferently. The hybrid didn't force a smile, didn't offer a wave even with his good arm--just sat in the shade and looked at him quietly, munching away on a stupid little twig. |