as they thank the lord — the blind can't see He didn't really have a home, nor did he care; the nights were not that cold, and he still lingered on the beaches sometimes if he was feeling at all nostalgic. Andre's nostalgia was mainly simply for the threatening sound of the ocean sucking at the sand, or the waves beating the shore into submission. Land would never win over sea, if there was any chance of such a war, but then, the water had a size advantage. He entered the territory smoothly, a wraith amongst the shimmering fog, and trotted with ease through what was called (unknown to him) the Haunted Hills. Andre had already adapted well to wandering, as he had always been prone to do to escape the inferior world, and his body was toned well for the brisk walking and jogging he did on a regular basis. He was slim, even for a coyote, but with time the lanky kid would bulk up, and the demon within with take shape in his physical form. For now, he was a scrawny loner coyote boy, though not thin from lack of nourishment, with slightly oversized paws and ears, trotting without a second thought through the pack land of his father. His malicious intentions did not give way for boundaries, and now that he was not bound by the clan, he believed he was free to roam where he wished, and so he did. |
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