Paw Prints

Slade Auctor · 03-21-2011, 08:28 AM

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OOC: Sorry for the wait.
Long post is long; when I have writer's block for a few days my muse just explodes when it comes back. Tongue
WC: 646

Slade could completely understand what Deidre meant when she said that she didn't really know where she was going. Prior to joining Cercatori d'Arte, he had also been a loner, living nomadically and moving to wherever the prey and shelter were. He had never set a location goal for himself until he heard about Cercatori d'Arte; it was their love of creativity that had bought him there. He had no prescience that he would quickly be thinking about his pack again.

It was interesting how Deidre mentioned Inferni. If Slade remembered correctly - seemed like he had been a loner such a long time ago - he had been told by a few random wanderers that Inferni was the best pack for him. He had passed by their territory briefly on his way to Cercatori d'Arte, but he had noticed that their borders were lined with skulls and had been scared away instantly. He wasn't sure exactly how he felt about a pack that clearly didn't want intruders, since he couldn't jump to conclusions, but he had a feeling that he wasn't about to be welcomed there. He had joined Cercatori d'Arte and wasn't going back.

Deidre went on to talk about a bird. Slade's ears went erect. He wasn't sure which bird she was talking about, and he knew that there were many birds in any land, but he instantly thought of a particular crow he had met a couple of months ago. It was thanks to that annoying bird that he had gotten a scar on his shoulder, and while it was hidden beneath his shaggy fur and didn't hurt anymore, he had certainly been scarred mentally thanks to a certain someone - he didn't dare try to remember the name, though it was clearly in mind - and suddenly couldn't remember why he had decided to talk to this loner.

Fortunately the subject was changed, and Slade told himself that Deidre was perfectly friendly. After having Jaden cross his mind, however, he couldn't help but stiffen a bit. Why was she asking about his pack? If she wanted to harm them in any way and Slade was responsible.... He forced himself to shove the thought aside. Now was not the time for being suspicious; it wouldn't help anything.

"Life's good," Slade replied simply. He wasn't about to say that it was fantastic, especially since he still had yet to meet a majority of his packmates, but it hadn't been horrible, either. He had met a good amount of friendly faces, and some of them had even helped him. He couldn't say that they were bad in any way... for the most part.

Once again pushing negative thoughts aside, he kept talking. "We're based on creativity. Nearly everyone I know in the pack has some sort of artistic talent; the leader Shawchert himself can carve really neat stuff out of wood." Maybe carving wasn't a huge talent, but to the lupus coyote it was. "So a lot of them are Luperci, and they use their hands to make whatever they want."

He couldn't help but add the last part. He had been subconsciously wondering why Deidre wasn't in optime form; he hadn't met many canines who weren't Luperci. Then he realized that his little addition about "hands" was completely stupid; if Deidre was a Luperci and had decided to use her lupus form for whatever reason, she knew full well what could be done with hands. Slade had made the mistake of jumping to conclusions yet again, and he flattened his ears. It seemed like he would always be the small one, the lupus coyote who couldn't do much more than hunt and talk and... It didn't matter now. He had been born that way, he had to be happy with it, and he was going to shut up and listen for Deidre's response.

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