I think I'm playing this right. :| If not, let me know.
The silver-furred werewolf was particularly fond of these forests; they seemed to stretch forever, expanding over his head and covering the whole of the sky. They provided an almost eerie shade from the sunlight, dulling the sound of the moving earth. These were a favorite place for Rurik to hunt; he would have fished the piers if he needed to keep his children fed, but such a night meant he would go hungry. The silver-furred werewolf did not have more than one child to care for now, though. He reminded himself this sadly; it was only him and Liliya still living in their little home in Halifax. He had brought his daughter to the forest today, but they'd split up quite a ways back, and Rurik had not heard from her since. She would have called for him if she'd run into trouble, but the werewolf's best hopes were for them to bring down two different kills today—the snow made it rather easy to preserve meat, and Rurik could always smoke it down to jerky if need be.
The werewolf had been traveling for quite a distance when an oddly familiar scent struck his nose. Tilting his head to the side he tried to think of where he knew it from; it did not compute to the silver-furred werewolf that perhaps he could be smelling someone from the old country for a moment until it struck him—Raskolnikov. There was another scent, that of a woman he did not immediately recognize, but the first smell was clear enough. He changed course and headed for the source of the scent, picking his way through the almost silent forest. The thick covering of the trees made everything seem silent to Rurik, and it was peaceful, if a bit eerie. He had not expected to find a nephew here—certainly not one from all the way around the world, but perhaps his stories of this new continent had not fallen on entirely deaf ears, after all.
Most of the family was quite content to remain in Arhkangel'sk, fishing their lives away, but not Rurik. He had never been one to settle in a single place for too long, and if nothing else, the silver-furred Russian was one to wander. He was not one to evince comfort when stuck in one spot for too long a time, and though he'd enjoyed raising his children with Verusha he had found himself desirous of adventure once more, and so here he was again. He was rather eager to hear what had caused old Rasky to run this way, and the werewolf's pace increased to a trot, walking quicker to find the extension of family that had ended up on this continent with him. Spying the grayish wolf and the dark-furred female by his side, the Russian wolf barked out a hello: "Never thought I'd run into you two here!"
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