01-30-2011, 05:53 PM
The wolfdog yapped, her voice young and wary. Clever girl, thinking to ask whether or not the jackal-wolf owned the territory. Fortunately for the both of them, she did not, and Rewdeynetya looked at the small one. She had her suspicions that the young one had not shifted much since being able to control such. That, or she found no use for her other two forms.
"...You might say that," she replied, in a lilting and foreign accent that rolled like a wave of sand. However, as fleeting as the gull, Rewdeynetya turned away. She padded off in the direction she had chosen, but it would not be the end of interaction. The wolfdog could always stay and try to catch another gull — or, she could follow. There was no guarantee that Rewdeynetya would talk, but perhaps the wolfdog could at least try. After all, it was very clear the jackal-wolf was a foreigner, perhaps coming to Canada out of the necessity. Might there be some sort of ally or companion they could find in each other?
But if the red-black mix knew the truth, she might be wary, possibly even angry. What walked before her was a traitor a thousand times over, walking upon the shore in exodus and exile. That same she-hybrid the young one saw as strange was the same one responsible for hundreds of deaths. Cubs, the old, mothers, the sick — none had been exempt. "Pack loyalty" was not in her mind, nor her nature, and if need be, she would throw the young wolfdog into danger in order to save her own pelt.
"...You might say that," she replied, in a lilting and foreign accent that rolled like a wave of sand. However, as fleeting as the gull, Rewdeynetya turned away. She padded off in the direction she had chosen, but it would not be the end of interaction. The wolfdog could always stay and try to catch another gull — or, she could follow. There was no guarantee that Rewdeynetya would talk, but perhaps the wolfdog could at least try. After all, it was very clear the jackal-wolf was a foreigner, perhaps coming to Canada out of the necessity. Might there be some sort of ally or companion they could find in each other?
But if the red-black mix knew the truth, she might be wary, possibly even angry. What walked before her was a traitor a thousand times over, walking upon the shore in exodus and exile. That same she-hybrid the young one saw as strange was the same one responsible for hundreds of deaths. Cubs, the old, mothers, the sick — none had been exempt. "Pack loyalty" was not in her mind, nor her nature, and if need be, she would throw the young wolfdog into danger in order to save her own pelt.