01-30-2011, 08:03 PM
Quote:“Has it been very difficult to adapt?”
"No," replied Rewdeynetya. A seagull cried overhead, swinging on an ocean breeze.
Quote:“I know that there are several packs around these parts, and some of the packs I have come across in my travels are rather hostile to loners.”
"That does not surprise me," said the jackal-wolf. No matter where one went, unless one had intent to join a place's pack, they were not usually welcome. Loners brought forth disease, hunting competition, temptations for the opposite sex — too much of a potential problem to handle. Those brought into the fold gained rights to a place, so long as they held the favour of those above. Otherwise, they had to pick at the places in-between and outside, even if those places were as barren as the middle of the Sahara. Rewdeynetya thought little of them.
Quote:“What do you know about the packs and territories here?”
"Nothing," she said. "Their affairs are not my own. I do not leave the coast." The wolfdog could make up her own conclusions as to why the jackal-wolf did such; Rewdeynetya didn't feel like stating the obvious. Here she was, a foreigner, come to the New World on the brink of winter, and she had not left the coast? She had barely even begun to scratch the surface of exploring the coast. Besides, she was part jackal — hunting wasn't always necessary when she could pick at things washed up on the shore. It was quite amazing what was swept into tide pools from out at sea, and how deliciously salty they were. Mind one, the amount of salt they had could dehydrate Rewdeynetya, but there was plenty of water around in the form of snow.