why do you build me u[p], buttercup?

Barrett · 06-18-2011, 08:16 PM

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Where to go. Now there was a conundrum. His eyes glazed over and for a moment, he stared at her blankly. “Uh..” he started uncertainly, before glancing to the trees as if they might voice an answer. Unfortunately, the only sounds to be heard were those of the night-time creatures stirring—and they wouldn't do the dark duo much good. Possums and raccoons were only marginally substantial for one wolf, much less two; it would be a waste of resources to pursue anything so small. Furthermore—although he wasn't very picky—the former was hardly his favourite and, thanks to Gale and Maserati's keeping the latter as pets, he wasn't too keen on raccoon meat, either.

“We'll just have to wing it, I guess,” he relented, sounding somewhat perplexed. For how much she'd helped him out of his jam earlier, he was starting to feel as useful as a bump on a log when it came to returning the favour. Still, there was nothing he could do: his first pass through Nova Scotia had been nearly a year ago, it had been very brief, and he'd only returned to this neck of the woods this past day. He was oblivious to the prime hunting spots (especially outside of Crimson Dreams). Hell, he wasn't even aware of any major footpaths through this region—that unfamiliarity was what had inevitably doomed him to his little predicament before.

He shrugged, however, and made some dismissive, optimistic sound. He wasn't too concerned; they still had their noses and instincts to guide them. Barrett turned away to disrobe as the she-wolf began to down-shift, haphazardly bunching his pants and hat into a wad and stuffing them inside his pack. He peered around, shouldered his way through the undergrowth into something of a clearing, and secured the bag several feet off the ground amongst the branches of a lone pine. Surrounded by a patch of deciduous trees, he supposed it would be easy enough to relocate later—just to be sure, he scent marked the base of the tree once he was done shifting.

Once everything was squared away, he moved back to rejoin TaeKyung. He nodded and offered an amicable swing of his tail as if to say 'ready when you are,' but he said nothing. Something subtle had changed in Barrett—he gaze was sharper, more predatory; he was more attentive, alert. His silent footfalls were a far cry from his gross flailing only minutes before; the youth had completely changed gears. A breeze picked up and he sniffed quietly at the air, then looked knowingly to his companion. She would have smelt them, too. The herd couldn't be more than a mile away.

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