[html] She had entered Jaded Shadows without knowing a single thing about it. It could have been roaming with cannibalistic predators, ruled by a clan of ruthless cheetahs, or taken over by aliens for all she cared — one thing Phox knew for certain, however, was that it was home. Here she would start a new life that didn't involve being reared by two parents who had better plans in mind. No one would drop her on someone else's doorstep in this safe haven simply because — right now, anyhow — she was nobody else's concern. Phox was a Shadows member, but as independent as the very Alpha who sat atop the hierarchy. It wouldn't stay this way for long, given the circumstances. She needed individual care, given how tender her age was. Who the guardian in question would be still remained quite a puzzling mystery.
A great, big yawn stretched across the young female's face, exposing the milky white baby teeth that lay rooted like a picket fence in her mouth. Phox lay sprawled out on the ground, playing with a tiny rock she'd found embedded in the soft soil. The sun shone brightly up above, twinkling like a thousand watt light bulb. She could get used to this comfort... [/html]
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Tripping along gaily, a couple of words of song escaped her before she noticed what she was doing and shut up guiltily, checking around for anyone present. That nervousness, gods it never left her. Maybe if she squashed it, the fear of being found - found by who, or what? She was safe at home - would dissipate as well. Tossing her flyaway golden hair, a miniature prima donna, the girl sang out defiantly.
"Here's a history
Of a mystery
This story
Is my song..."
She was improvising, just letting the garbage spew out, striding now with an assertive stiletto-like sway.
"It's about a bug
Inside of a jug
Which was brown
And small and round."
A giggle escaped her now, breaking up the carefully measured rhythm which had been the cause of the hilarity. How silly she sounded. But sometimes, especially when alone, it was OK to be silly, wasn't it? Nursery rhymes were even crazier than this, anyway. The red-wolf throwback shook her head. Sometimes the world made very little sense. Parts of it more than others. For example, how could she act so light-hearted? When she knew the kind of things that were out there, if you were careless enough to run into them. It was true that her gait had a light, nervous step to it... even at her most flamboyant she held herself as if poised to flee. But on days like today, with the sun out making her gleam even more yellow-gold than usual, she couldn't help but feel exuberant and she was starting to feel like she was the most cheerful person around; maybe even the only one. Well, she should make the most of it, then, she thought. Her muzzle lifted and she gave forth to the sunny sky:
"He would stare
At the cloudy air
And..."
She was interrupted then as an unfamiliar scent hit her and she broke off instantly, looking around in a panic for whoever-it-was she'd smelled; maybe a new pack member? What kind of a first impression would that be, singing out like a loon?! [/html]
[html] It wasn't the unfamiliar scent, but rather unfamiliar song that caught Phox by surprise. The words didn't make sense to her, but the tune was melodic and cheerful. Eyes bright with curiosity, the puppy quickly pulled herself off the ground and into a sitting position that did nothing to stop her rump from shaking with anticipation. This tune, it was drifting closer — she could tell by its increasing volume. When it finally stopped mid—sentence Phox got the idea that something had gone wrong, so in a fit of piqued interest she scampered off to find out what might've happened. In moment's time she came across another female, this one slightly older with long, flowing hair. Tilting her head to the side, Phox smiled ruefully. "Was dat you singin'?" [/html]
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Hands clapped to her chest as the small pup approached, a wide-eyed deer-spooked expression replaced with relief. A kid younger than herself wasn't someone to be embarrassed in front of. The faintly melodramatic feeling of the gesture of clasping hands struck her then and self-consciously she lowered them, striking a non-committal posture as she answered "Yes, yes it was." A half-smile accompanied this; half friendly and half quizzical. Whose child could this be? She looked like no one Legacy knew. [/html]
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