Word Count :: 580 Hmmhmm.

"No good, no good, no good." He glared at the broken piece of wood in his hand, golden eyes flying back and forth to look at the curves. Fingers picked at tiny brown creatures crawling upon the wood, squashing them inaudibly. Loviere had picked up this piece for the beautiful color of the grain. The tree it had come from was not of a type that he had worked with before. He had set his knife against the piece to test it and the mites had shown themselves. Infested wood was of no use to him and he threw the piece down the path. Octavian leapt into the lap of the seated carpenter, holding a different piece in his mouth. Loviere took it gratefully, holding the light brown piece up to his eye. The telltale holes that marked infestation were absent, and he fell upon the piece with his knife happily.

The act of whittling helped Loviere to think. With a job, he could focus on one thing. Without a job, his mind often went off into different strings of thought, strings that would not allow him to think deeply on any single thing. He thought now of the way his hands could find their way along the grain of the wood, shaping softly and molding slowly. He rarely knew what a sculpture would be when he began, but let his hands lead the way. It was as if they had a mind of their own, creating the art that he so loved.

He set the tree piece on the ground in front of his feet and reached for the bottle of whiskey he had traded for a few days ago. He took a sip, letting the burn of the alcohol run down his throat. He lowered the bottle to his raccoon friend, who lapped at the drink and subsequently sneezed. Loviere chuckled, placing it back at his side. His light golden eyes rose to look over his surroundings. The structures within Thornburg were crafted just well enough that he could appreciate the work behind them. He had yet to decide on a place to settle. Currently he was considering putting up his own hut somewhere more isolated in the territory. Loviere needed more tools to do so, however, and so he chose to sleep in an empty house in the town, carving at day so that he might be able to trade for building supplies.

He sighed softly as he rounded an edge off the wood. At the moment he would enjoy some companionship. Octavian was often good to talk with, but the wolf was around the raccoon so much that the two had little to share with each other on most days. Such things occurred when you spent your life with another almost always at your side. This was one reason that Loviere did not quite like the idea of settling down with a woman. Would not the same old person get old after a while? He blinked. Surely not, if so many chose to settle down. I'm clearly too young to get it," he thought with a slightly chuckle. He looked fondly upon his work and finally saw what was seeming to shape itself within the wood. A wooden Celtic cross. Loviere knew little of religion, besides his own belief that each thing had a spirit. But he had seen various wolves carrying crucifixes and crosses of the sort, and many would trade for such a thing.

Word Count :: 479 Okay, I freaking love your Bambi.

He set the cross in his lap, letting Octavian pick it up and inspect it, as the woman approached. He allowed himself to smile gently, lips curling upward to reveal just a slight portion of his teeth. He found himself slightly in awe of the beautiful blue-gray coloring of the lady's fur. It seemed natural, and he had never seen such a unique coloring in his young life. He tipped his head in greeting as she walked closer and blinked stupidly as she sat down near him. He hadn't expected that. Maybe just a passing hello, but not for her to just sit next to him. As she lifted her hand, he found himself looking at it. He wondered briefly what the gesture meant. Was it some type of waving gesture? Octavian nudged him gently, and he lifted his hand as well. He touched hers hesitantly, hoping it was the right thing to do. He had often seen Octavian greet other creatures in such a way, and so he hoped it was alright.

"Hi, miss. Nice meeting you, miss. I'm Oct." Octavian spoke before Loviere, crawling from his lap to move closer to the lady. The raccoon's ears rose with curiousity as he crept closer, until he finally stood upon his hind legs to sniff more closely at Bambi.

Bambi. Loviere heard the whisper, but it took him a few seconds to realize that she must have spoken her name. He could tell already that she was a woman of few words. Such was a trait that he could definitely appreciate, being of simple terms himself. He found it a bit odd that his raccoon friend gave his name as simply Oct instead of Octavian, but then thought that perhaps the raccoon sensed something that he did not. The scent of the pack was on Bambi, faintly, but there. She must be new, quite like him.

"Hi, Bambi. I'm Loviere. Are you... new here? I am too. If you are."

He wondered if she would respond. Whether or not she did, he was greatly intrigued by the unique-looking dog. Perhaps it was her appearance, or the way she had introduced herself to him.

"I... like your scarf." He pointed at the feathered scarf, his golden eyes gently moving as he observed the woman. It was then that he realized that she was the first woman of d'Arte that he had really had the opportunity to meet. He wondered what her special talent was that had led her to join the artistic pack. His mind wandered, questions sprouting throughout his head. Instinct told him not to ask her much. She clearly was quiet.

Loviere touched his twisted leg as he thought, running his fingers over the patchy fur that grew upon it. Whenever he was around women, he found that the leg embarrassed him even more than it normally did.

Word Count :: 557 .

He nodded as she spoke. So she was new also. At least he had found someone who might be just as confused and unsure as he was. He looked closely at her, wondering why she spoke with so few words. He knew better than to ask, but he could not help but be curious. It makes her unique, like me, he thought. She wasn't just a pretty face, clearly. He smiled softly, looking at the girl. She was big for a dog, but still remarkably feminine. Strong, but graceful in appearance.

Octavian nodded at the woman, and backed onto Loviere's lap once more. He curled up, eyes peeking out from over his ringed tail curiously, watching the two interact. He quite liked this Bambi. It wasn't often that he and Loviere met someone with such noticeable quirks. She was a bit like Loviere in that respect.

Loviere blinked in shock as he felt her warm hand upon his. Immediately he ceased moving it up and down his leg. No one had ever really acknowledged him like that before. Often, people simply ignored the leg out of pity. It did not seem to be pity that Bambi felt for him though, he thought, but rather understanding of some type. The simple gesture sent a chill down his spine and he felt at a loss for words.

He couldn't help but feel sudden sympathy for the woman when she showed him her mark. It had clearly been inflicted purposefully. What she said next shocked him even more. He imagined the horror she might have felt. He couldn't imagine what it was like to be under the complete control of another. A pang of rage toward whoever had done this to Bambi struck his heart, but he quieted his emotions to simply answer her question. "No, I was not a slave. I was born with it, I think. My parents always thought it was... a curse."

He looked at the ground quickly. He rarely spoke of his parents' reaction to his deformity. It was part of the reason he had left them - their constant complaints of the bad luck his "curse" supposedly brought to them. But what this girl had gone through was much worse, he thought with a twinge of guilt. He had never gone through anything quite so traumatic.

"I'm sorry you were a slave. I am glad that you are free now." He knew not what else to say. Loviere did not have words for the feelings of anger and sadness her question had brought him. He had always believed that freedom was the one necessary right of all living things - to take that away was barbaric.

Her next statement amused him slightly. It was a nice offer, especially from one he had just met. He noticed her look of embarrassment, but disregarded it. In his opinion, she had nothing to be embarrassed about. "I don't have a home right now. I work with wood, so I want to build my own. Oct and I have been staying in.... abandoned house for while. You are too nice, Bambi. Oct might like company.... I would too."

When he was excited, Loviere's speech defected slightly. Often he had to concentrate on what he said so as not to speak stupidly, but he felt comfortable with the woman.

Word Count :: +3 Sorry about the short post. I'm multitasking.

He felt a look of content show itself upon his face. He did not quite understand what the lady had meant by "signal", but her words comforted him. She seemed remarkably strong. If she had been a slave and had gotten through that, she was already far stronger than he would ever be. He felt sudden admiration for the dog. He wondered what she had gone through to get this far. His life sure seemed easy now, given even what little he knew of hers.

"You sweet. I like... houses. Wanna live with this girl, Lovi. 'Til you build. Sweet." Despite his grammar, the raccoon spoke confidently. He had always been rather headstrong. He was rather proud of his ability to speak some High Speech, when most canines found it hard to learn Low Speech. He gently pressed his nose against her hand, one of his favorite ways to show affection.

Loviere couldn't help but chuckle at the honest ways of his little animal friend. He would have blushed, had he not been so focused on the girl. His golden eyes fell upon her stump of a tail. His eyes widened as he wondered if this was another mark of slavery. Had she been born without a tail, or had it been cut off? He dared not ask, but looked back to her eyes. "I would love a bit of help, definitely."

He wondered what she meant by offering help, but he did not wish to make her speak any more than she was comfortable with saying. He picked up the cross he had been working on with his free hand and looked at it thoughtfully. He was half-tempted to give it to the lady, but he felt she deserved something better than a simple thing that he didn't even understand. He sighed softly, suddenly unsure of himself. What was he doing, after all?