the ant and the grassho[p]per.

Barrett · 09-14-2011, 11:06 AM

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No worries dude, I've been scarce anyway. x_x

The mottled male continued his task with quiet determination and mechanical focus. Sniff, sniff, sniff; Dig, dig, dig; Sift, sift, sift; Score! and finally, Plonk! All the while, however intent he appeared to be, his mind wandered. These potatoes were not the plump, half-pound Idahos humans used to cultivate--no, growing wild for over two decades now, some had dwindled to the size of mere ping pong balls. Oddly, the loner seemed to deliberately avoid the most impressive spuds, even though harvesting them would expedite things considerably. But rather than excavate them now, he placed several distinct scratches aside the prize winning plants: these fine specimens he would uproot and transplant later. In the coming years, they would present him with the most bountiful yield.

Devilishly clever as this plan made him feel, something puzzling soon gave him pause. He'd seen a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye before, yes, but figured it was Jøren. But now a shift in the winds made him realise it was another wolf. A female. His face, which was covered in loose soil, popped up quizzically from the freshest hole like a bewildered Whack-a-Mole. Less than a minute had passed since she entered the scene, but now he wasn't sure how he missed her that long. The soft green fabric of her dress clung loosely to the curves of her body as she watched him closely, expectantly--was that a bit of a 'come hither' look?--all while teasing her thick, curled locks. His head tipped just five degrees to the right and he blinked, but then he seemed to snap out of it.

The lithe male shook to dislodge the dirt with some success (all the clumps were gone; whatever bits remained blended in with his coat well enough), then regarded her coolly, tail slowly wagging behind him. If you don't mind my saying, he began, voice alight with a playful lilt, you seem better prepared for a grand event or party, rather than watching me play in the dirt. A smirk. Only Barry, covered in mud and caught unawares, would turn a situation like this into an opportunity to flirt. Or do you know, he mused, of the fantastic purpose these roots will serve? He had a hunch this girl knew how to hold her alcohol--but it was just a hunch.

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