Table code and image © to Alaine
ooc: sorry for how long this took! i'm exhausted - i have so many assignments to write up! its 1am, lololol XD Sorry for the wee bit of PP!
The air was crisp and cool against his fluffy ivory cheeks as the young boy sat on his haunches, his livid ice-blue eyes attentively gazing up at the sky. A fluffy white cloud drifted lazily across the weak sun and he imagine all the sorts of shapes it could become.
Today was a day not unlike any other in Caillen's short life. He woke to find Sylvie gone, had just been out of his room when Alaine had whipped past muttering something about careless men with over-sized egos and unpredictable horses before she, too, had left. So he was all alone now, because today nobody in particular was boarding at the Chien Hotel where he, his mother, and his best friend had bunkered down to create a home.
He thought of Sylvie now, with a slight frown. The pair were close as conjoined twins, but for when the little girl's paws began to itch, and when not even his melodic dreamer's voice could keep her from nervous fidgeting. Then she would take her thoughts and disappear, leaving behind only a mysterious shroud of silence and the soft scent of lavender and sheep. He could smell her now as he sat on the rotting wood of the hotel's old front porch, and wondered absently why he'd never thought to follow her before.
There were two things Caillen were good at. One was storytelling, and the other was using his big, shiny-black nose. There was a peculiar mixture of collie and wolf in the young slate pup, for his huge paws were herald of what would eventually become a huge frame, but his strange blue-grey pelt and tan dashings was clearly exotic only to the breeds of dog. Caillen had no fighting ability within him, as had been proved by many fruitless games of wrestling with Sylvie, but if being constantly beaten by a girl upset him then Caillen never showed it. Besides, there was nobody better to be beaten by - Sylvie was sharp as a tack, and drank in information with much more avid interest than the boy. he was content just to be, watching those fluffy white clouds roll on by, sometimes pausing to swat at his nose with one large ivory paw.
There was only one way that Caillen had the upper hand over Sylvie, and that was through his wolf side. The boy had raw instincts buried deep, deep within him; So far submerged they seemed invisible, till a particular moment would pull them to the surface of his conscience and bam!, something incredibly unpredictable would happen. Today was one of those days, because as he sat watching the sheep-like cumulus and the wispy cirrus and breathed deeply of the girl's distinctly girl scent, he decided to track her.
Now, when Caillen actually got it through the fogs of his mind to do something, there was surprisingly little anybody could do to stop him. Beneath that dreamer's expression was a fierce determination, just ready to leap out. Mama would say no, but that thought was no more than a passing wraith through his head as the young boy rose, stretched, and then lowered his charcoal snozz to the wood. He took a deep breath, sneezing slightly as musty wood particles stung his nostrils, before setting off at a defiant trot. He was surprisingly good at tracking, when he bothered to. It was a matter of concentration and willpower that he lacked, not talent, and his wolfish nose was easily able to follow the fresh tracks. Sylvie hadn't been making any attempt to hide her scent, as Alaine had taught them to do on one of their many excursion lessons into the wide, dangerous world the young mother saw. And even though his mind noted that fact, nor did he stop to place careful pawpads on rocks and dewy grasses that would prevent his own scent from clinging to the path. With both of the pups smells dotting the line behind them, they made an easy trail for any who wished to follow.
It wasn't long till the scent grew strong enough that Caillen knew it was fresh, probably by minutes. Sylvie had just passed through here, moving at a regular, unhurried pace. His small puppy muscles shivered with excitement, and then a wash of confusion. Why had he followed her in the first place? He'd been back at the hotel watching clouds last he recalled, and then... Well, here he was, still trailing her scent like a sniffer-hound! He should feel betrayed, or in the least, slightly miffed. She had, after all, left him behind again; But instead, all he could feel was a building anticipation, and a mystifyingly strange feeling in the pit of his gut.
He wouldn't, until many years into adulthood, finally recognize that feeling as dread.
For a moment, the youth considered calling out, before deciding against it almost immediately. It was much more fun stalking her like this, where he could sneak up and formulate a surprise-attack pounce, or something of the sort. Trotting forward again, the boy was subconsciously careful to keep close to the thick scrub and out of sight. When soft French singing, in a definitely girly voice, began to drift in from the north Caillen sniffed in confusion. That didn't smell like Sylvie, but what other young girls could sing in French? He recognized brief snippets of the song, for though he couldn't speak it very well, Caillen had heard Sylvie talk it so much that he was beginning to take it on as a second language.
The singing got closer and closer. He waited until it stopped, then listened to the careless puppy's feet crunch on the dead leaves, closer and closer to his hiding spot. With a wicked grin still on his little ivory maw, the boy crouched down only to launch himself out, not realizing his mistake until it was too late. His large body moved just in time to tumble harmlessly into the strange young girl, knocking them both to the ground.
"Hey, you're n-n-not Sylvie!" Caillen protested meekly, preparing to be mauled by some angry young girl.
Speak think walk
