Itachi is wuss, mkai?
The currents that so delicately wandered through the underbrush were forever changing, though today, it was one particular scent that caught the Protégé’s attention. A presence had appeared nearby, and could not go unchecked. The blonde was relatively laid back compared to other family members, but he didn’t always choose to close his eyes. On silent feet, he stepped further from the nearby pack borders and into no man’s land.
But there was a man here, and the flawed Prince moved with endless patience and delicacy. The Salsolan’s presence remained undetected as he peered out between summer’s green and the sparse spiced shades of an approaching Autumn. The other optime sat down, and Itachi could easily count the loner’s years beyond his own. And there was a weapon. Was this a peaceful wanderer or a calculating criminal, wielding a weapon with cruel intent?
But the pale man with the sunset eyes was not alone. He had walked the short distance alone to inspect this invading scent, but others from his pack were most likely nearby. Stepping back to ensure he was for certain out of sight, blood red hues turned in the direction of his home, waiting to see if someone else shared his curiosity.
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