For Lilith. Lemme know immediately if scrolling tables give you trouble.

Word Count → 316

A creamy-yellow werewolf stalked the Atlantic shoreline, his bulky secui form pausing every once in a while to shake damp sand from large paws. He cast the rough waves rushing up the rocky beach a somewhat nervous look, flashing back once again to the time he’d been washed out to sea—and more recently when an urchin had gashed his leg when he came to the rescue of a young Court pup. He still had the scar there, barely visible through the thin fur on his hind leg, but it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t ugly, and he could always spin the story a little; maybe it was a shark’s tooth that scraped him instead of a spike ball.

Skoll Haskel grinned lightly at the thought, but his toothy smile faded as he looked ahead. He had traveled all over Nova Scotia with Terra, but it was a lot different to be out here on his own. He wasn’t scared, exactly, but he was definitely cautious. His nostrils flared as he tested the air, inhaling only the briny wind, and his pale ginger ears swiveled every time he imagined a noise. He had some advantage in his muscular form, both for taking hits and fleeing, but he knew that he wasn’t that great of a fighter. He told himself that, so long as no one snuck up on him like they had Niro, he would be fine.

He continued to wander northeast, following the coast, until the strong odor of pack markers struck him. He hesitated, ears flattening and thick scruff bristling, and tried to place the smell, but he simply wasn’t familiar with the northern packs. He stared at the foothills beyond the border, loitering despite himself, and remembered the trouble he’d gotten into with Terra near the Casa di Cavalieri boundary. He stayed firmly on the neutral side, though, too curious to run off.

Bahh, this post is late and weird.

Word Count → 277

Skoll stood in silence, thoughts flickering silently between his ears then disappearing like wisps of smoke. He was almost transfixed by the thought of what might linger beyond this unfamiliar border, as if he could catch a feeling of the place. It was ridiculous, as there were no decorations or landmarks to tell about the place, only the foothills and the mountain range in the distance, intimidating and immovable. Even in his secui form, it made him feel small, and he had the thought that he might want to go home—but it was only a velleity overshadowed by the desire to stay and learn.

Whatever idle gods learned of this desire granted him a means to quench it: a shape manifesting from the foothills, striding toward him. He stiffened, hackles bristling up in a great ridge along his neck, but his green eyes were only cautious and not aggressive. They grew big and round when the stranger came even closer—a tall and slender creature, formed of coffee and copper and chalk, with a great black coat draped over her body. Her smell was masked with a stronger, unfamiliar aroma that made him lightheaded; strangely, he didn’t feel like panicking.

She was so strange—for her height and facial structure, he did not notice that she was actually a good few months younger than him. Even though she did not speak, he felt prompted to say something to her, mostly to break the spell of silence he seemed to be under.

The prince came up with: Hello. And then, not wanting to sound foolish but admitting to his ignorance all the same: What pack is this?

Bahh, this post is late and weird.

Word Count → 300

There was silence for a moment as the skinny girl’s hazel eyes regarded him, and Skoll hackled under her stare. He wasn’t sure why it made him feel so uncomfortable; she was probably only sizing him up like he’d done to her. At the same time, there was nothing evident in her expression as to suggest what she found; her face seemed dead. No wolf should look like that, without a sparkle in their eyes, a furrow of their brow, even a smirk that might hint at what she was thinking. He was a vibrant, lively thing by contrast, and the juxtaposition only made him more uncomfortable.

But damned if he was going to let her know that. He sucked in some air and kept his posture consistent if not as confidently as he usually held himself; the Courtier was right next to her territory, after all, and he didn’t want her to think that he was trying to lay claim to his place there. He started to clear his throat, to prompt an answer, but after taking a puff on the weird pipe she sighed. His ears flicked backward at the sound then inched forward again, eager for an answer.

The prince averted his green eyes as she lazily tossed the question back at him. No, I don’t know, he admitted with some difficultly. I haven’t really been up this far north before, so I don’t know the lay of the land that well; I live in one of the southern packs. He resisted the urge to bite his lip, and he found his gaze drawn to the pipe again. And while we’re talking about things I don’t know, I don’t know what that is either, he said with a cautious side-to-side sweep of his yellow tail behind him.