The first figure she spotted as he lumbered into the spread of firelight was a tall mammoth of a Luperci, and before he stepped into the spill of the light she knew by the poise and height that this must be Shawchert. He was the first guest to arrive at the impromptu bonfire, and Orin greeted him accordingly. She abandoned her small fire and ran over to Shawchert, leaping and landing on him in a hug though her small weight was not enough to throw the Captain off balance. She quickly scurried down, though, and ran back to the fire and waited while Shawchert caught up. “I’m so glad you made it!” He seemed to be in good spirits and not upset at all that she had so randomly decided to light a fire in the middle of Thornbury, and in fact, it seemed that he had come to help.
Her ears were arrows to the sky with happiness and her tail lashed about wildly, unable to contain her delight as she watched her leader pile up the wood he had collected and fix up her haphazard campfire. He poked and prodded at it and she watched with intense awe. At one point some wood inside the blaze shifted and she thought it would hit Shawchert and singe his fur, but before she had a chance to cry out she noticed that Shawchert had it under control, and was not about to receive a burn from her fire.
When his work was complete the fire was much more substantial and the flames had doubled in height. There was less black smoke billowing into the air, now streamlined and controlled, and the orange flames licked the air several feet above her head. Orin grinned her approval of the enhanced fire.
“Yes! Let’s celebrate! We are Cercatori D’Arte, brothers and sisters in pack and in art,” she smiled at Shawchert and watched as he retrieved his flute. She had already begun to move around the fire again and was just about to call out again to her packmates – she would wake them all up if she had to! – when she noticed another silhouette approaching. This one was more slight of build, but all Orin could tell as the woman approached was that she was a woman.
Orin was taken with Shawchert’s music as it rang forth and danced with the sounds of the blaze. She swayed and waved her arms as she pirouetted around the fire, her natural grace for once finally showing as she let the moment guide her. Sometimes she would close her eyes and dance frighteningly close to the bonfire, but always the heat of the flames would get to be too much and she would open her eyes again and skip back.
When she opened her eyes she saw the woman that had joined them was now seated next to Shawcert. She was accompanying the melody with her own natural instrument, her beautiful, smooth voice, though she did not sing words. Orin had not yet met this woman, but pretense be damned! They were pack!
She skipped around from the other side of the fire and held her hands out to the woman. “Come, dance with me,” she offered, then glanced over at Shawchert. “And what are you doing just sitting there? I know you can move around with that thing.” She laughed and looked back to Sky, hoping the woman would take her hand and join her in her fire dance.
.orinfruitloops p {margin:0px 0px 10px 0px; padding:0px 10px 0px 10px; text-indent:25px; }
.orinfruitloops b {color:#fff; font-size:12px;}
.orinfruitloops {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#FFA8C2; text-shadow:1px 1px 0px #680621; word-spacing:1px; line-height:12px; width:350px; background-color:#E51851; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #372b1b; line-height:15px; text-align:justify; background-image:url(http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g210/ ... /orin3.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-bottom:5px; padding-top:210px; text-align:justify; }
