[html]
The orange splotches were actually rather flattering, a complement to his eyes. What an interesting sight he would be with orange and black speckles, thought the artist as he scrubbed himself. Too bad the paint was so itchy, or he might try to stain his fur permanently. Besides, the extra pops of orange would limit the variety of bandanas he could wear, and that was something Macer could never deal with.
His fur almost clean, the boy fought the urge to abandon the task altogether and play in the water. There were just a few more stains, great clumps of crusting black paint, and he told himself that he would play for hours if he could wrench the clumps from his fur. As he was grinding his nails into one of the stains, there was a deep, questioning voice, dangerously near. Macer's ears shot up and he froze. Slowly, his sunset gaze drew up to the stormy man standing before him. Although the scarred wolf was slightly intimidating, Alaki wore a light smile that put the wolfdog at ease.
Returning a crooked, shameless grin, Macer waved. Howdy, Alaki, he greeted. Just taking a bath. Got more paint on myself than the wall, I think. The boy chuckled. That was usually the result of a piece he really enjoyed painting: a mess.