09-27-2009, 11:42 PM
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JOY!
After the original shock had passed, Snake’s mind became oddly macabre—like how it was kind of classy to have the skulls on the pikes rather than a severed head, which would probably stink after a while. An errant thought, product of a young and chaotic mind, that disappeared as soon as it appeared. As the young coyote looked across the line of stakes, which went on as long as he could see, he knew that they were wolf skulls. They were too large, too broad for coyotes. And the wind brought to him the scent of his own species. A coyote pack, obviously aggressive to wolves? Something that he’d never really thought of before.
When it came to coyotes and wolves, Snake didn’t really know what to think. He was a coyote. His parents were coyotes. His past-father figure, Patriot, however, had been a full-blooded wolf. A massive creature of frigid, arctic blood, whenever Snake bothered to think of the Devil, he thought of him. The boy didn’t trust wolves very much, nor did he like them, but he was not to the point of open aggression or hatred. That might change, though.
He tore his olive gaze away from the warning posts when he noticed a figure approaching. With a great deal of surprise, he noticed that it was another coyote—practically his same age, if he had to guess. While the stranger was a little shorter and thinner than he was, he looked healthy enough, so it seemed there was food about. At the other kid’s words, a small shiver went down Snake’s spine. He flicked his gaze between one of the staring skulls and the coyote, and nodded slightly.
“I have no love for wolves, but…” he trailed off, his gaze flickering back and forth. He found himself unable to continue, so he just gave a noncommittal shrug of his broad shoulders. “Would you mind if I asked you what’s the name of this place?” With a moment of thought, he gestured with his hands—more around him, a more broad motion. “And not just this place, but the whole place.”
Snake was not eloquent, and neither had he been really drilled on an expansive vocabulary. The concepts of ‘territory’ or ‘region’ were not really in his grasp.
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After the original shock had passed, Snake’s mind became oddly macabre—like how it was kind of classy to have the skulls on the pikes rather than a severed head, which would probably stink after a while. An errant thought, product of a young and chaotic mind, that disappeared as soon as it appeared. As the young coyote looked across the line of stakes, which went on as long as he could see, he knew that they were wolf skulls. They were too large, too broad for coyotes. And the wind brought to him the scent of his own species. A coyote pack, obviously aggressive to wolves? Something that he’d never really thought of before.
When it came to coyotes and wolves, Snake didn’t really know what to think. He was a coyote. His parents were coyotes. His past-father figure, Patriot, however, had been a full-blooded wolf. A massive creature of frigid, arctic blood, whenever Snake bothered to think of the Devil, he thought of him. The boy didn’t trust wolves very much, nor did he like them, but he was not to the point of open aggression or hatred. That might change, though.
He tore his olive gaze away from the warning posts when he noticed a figure approaching. With a great deal of surprise, he noticed that it was another coyote—practically his same age, if he had to guess. While the stranger was a little shorter and thinner than he was, he looked healthy enough, so it seemed there was food about. At the other kid’s words, a small shiver went down Snake’s spine. He flicked his gaze between one of the staring skulls and the coyote, and nodded slightly.
“I have no love for wolves, but…” he trailed off, his gaze flickering back and forth. He found himself unable to continue, so he just gave a noncommittal shrug of his broad shoulders. “Would you mind if I asked you what’s the name of this place?” With a moment of thought, he gestured with his hands—more around him, a more broad motion. “And not just this place, but the whole place.”
Snake was not eloquent, and neither had he been really drilled on an expansive vocabulary. The concepts of ‘territory’ or ‘region’ were not really in his grasp.