Word Count → :: OoC: That title made me lol so hard, and this Clicky! is why...Because I can totally see Alister doing this...>.<
If ever a time a dog was to be seen around the pack of New Dawn, this was not it. He’d learned that earlier upon meeting the wolfess Fayne. Great, another group of wolves with a superiority complex. He thought begrudgingly as he gazed in the direction of the border. There he’d sat, minding his own business when the silver woman greeted him with unease and suspicion. He hadn’t missed the path of her eyes as they took in the sight of him; clothed and armed with sword and shield. She didn’t like what she saw, that was obvious, painfully so, but he’d been doing nothing to raise an alarm. Okay, maybe his shouting hadn’t been the most endearing thing to overhear, but it had been directed at himself. He, who’d been foolishly consulting a map that was upside down. It’s not like he’d been a stellar navigator to begin with. He was surprised the brother’s hadn’t laughed at him when he told them he was heading to Nova Scotia. Maybe because they’d half expected him to show up again a week later caked in mud, raving about some mishap or another that ended him back where he started. Be it fortunate or unfortunate (being far too early to decide one or the other), he’d ended up close to where he’d been meaning to go.
The slanted roofs and cracked asphalt of the city he found more to his liking, thinking he may find a decent enough shelter lining the grass choked city streets. He’d at least be able to see anyone approaching, and have enough privacy in the meantime. It was better than the muck he’d been trampling for starters. If he was lucky he may find something of use for his travels. He shrugged his shield higher up on his back and tread onwards towards the abandoned city. If he was remembering correctly the city was called Amherst, but he could be wrong. He was wrong so often these days, ever since he’d left home…Not that it had felt particularly ‘homely.’ If anything, the wolves were glad to be rid of the bastard hybrid. Nothing here was familiar to him, and he found the tattered map he’d taken with him was of little to no use here post-apocalyptic Nova Scotia.
On his way there he caught sight of a red and brown blur coming towards him. His keen nose extended forwards, taking a tentative sniff, and surprisingly the man that drew near was similar to himself. Part dog, part wolf, the hybrid pushed away the lump of anxiety that has risen in his throat and stopped to hail the passer-by. “Ho, there, friend!” He called out amiably.
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