The power of the broom

[Dawali Amara]

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It's ok! Not your fault, so Word Count: 343 The red wolf male and his load moved along slowly, but comfortably, heading for the borders. His eyes looked about him constantly, taking in the blooming life, as if the vegetation was a civilization of its own, now entering a golden age and expanding beyond comprehension, bursting in every direction. Every now and then he had to squint against a stray ray of sun that got through, although most of the time he was in comfortable, cool shadow. It wasn't as if it was warm enough to be called warmth yet, but the weather was definitely milder than just a month back. The blessed sun, how he'd missed it! How he'd missed having it around him, hell, even burning his skin beneath that red fur in the summer-time. And every summer he longed for the coolness of winter. He was a strange man, never satisfied, except in spring. It was in between the two poles, just right for him, and with such a lifting effect on everyone around him, too. What more could he ask for, truly. Well, except for someone's company, naturally, but he was getting old - he would enjoy life anyways. He'd grow old in style, he had always thought, but every spring he lived through would still have that rejuvenating effect on him. Whistling, sometimes imagining himself in a duet with the birds that sounded from here and there, although he could not see the little buggers, Dawali suddenly noticed something not green in the corner of his eye. Stopping, he turned - with great effort - his whole upper body in the direction of the black color (the weight prevented him from any more agile movement), and spotted a part of something that must be a wolf. And so far, only one person besides Ayegali in their tribe had that color, and the area did not smell of their leader. Speaking up to get the female's attention, Dawali simultaneously put his load down on the ground. It would do with a little break, yeah? Ember, is that you?

Awesome sexy table and avatar by Kat! [/html]