[P]One and two
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Lol, depressed Rurik is depressed...October 11th. mid-morning. Somewhere between the Fort and Whisper Beach/400+


The bright mid-day sun was warm against his fur, a slight contrast to the cool breeze that was gently blowing in from the shore that wasn't too far away. The grass at his feet swayed back and forth in time with the wind. A few paces away lay his katana and dagger. In his hand he held his well worn black staff, gently spinning it over the back of his hand as he look out toward the beach and water, only just visible from the small hill he was on. He liked to come here sometimes, it was quiet and lonely, but not in a bad way. He liked it here, it gave him a place to think when he had things on his mind, or when he didn't. It was away from the hubub of the pack.


"A pack I barely know..." He thought bitterly to himself. He had come here this time with something on his mind; he couldn't stop thinking about how few of the other members he knew, he could probably count them all on one paw. He also had a nagging thought that refused to leave him be, one that chewed on him day in and day out, and that was how useless and unneeded he was to the pack. At the best of times, his thoughts, that one in particular, made him stand-offish. At the worst, he thought it would be best to wander off into the wilderness and die. He figured he should probably talk to someone before it got worse, but then he couldn't think of anyone that would care enough to talk to him, or that wasn't busy with something more important then he was. He figured Jazper would listen, but why should he be bothered with the pathetic whinings of one member when he had a whole pack to worry about? He kept rolling these thoughts around in his head, getting no where fast.


With a sigh he let himself fall back into the grass, his staff falling next to him, and looking up at the clouds passing over head. He dug around in his pocket for a second, searching for his small metal lighter. He found it, in his other pocket, and pulled it out. He flicked it open with a small -click- and struck the flint, catching the thread. The fire danced back and forth in the breeze as he watched it, his mind slowly calming and quieting as he slowly became unaware of his surroundings.


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