The bright and sunny day had coaxed Rurik out of the dark hotel. There was no electricity or running water in it, of course, but the canines of Cour des Miracles kept the house well-maintained enough. Rurik liked his room, but he knew his dwelling was only temporary; already he was visiting the coast and scoping things out for himself. He had spent yesterday doing this, wandering the little coastal town of Lunenberg. Today he was heading south, tracing his way along the coast as he went. After a while, a scent caught his nose—horses. He knew this scent, though he wasn't particularly familiar with horses, he did find them intriguing, and as he didn't know this part of the territory too well, he figured he ought to head over there and check it out.
Heading inland, the silver-furred werewolf hummed a tune to himself, his tail swinging merrily. Maybe he'd get to meet someone else from the pack today—the stables seemed like a rather good place to do it. There was a well-beaten track heading toward the stables, he found, hoofprints stamped into the sand leading up to it. The building was much larger than he expected, and grazing fields and a racetrack accompanied the large building. Rurik whistled in appreciation, and his brilliant blue eyes wandered over the territory, zeroing in on some movement. There was a familiar form there—Niro. Rurik remembered him from the fishing picnic, and he grinned, trotting forward quickly. He waved his hand toward the other man. “Allo, Niro!” the man said, striding over to his packmate. “Vhat is zhis zhing you are workeeng on?” the man asked, curious to see what the structure was.
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