07-20-2009, 12:15 AM
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Though Warren was always extremely wary of everyone, as he knew best what kind of darkness lurked in people, he also knew he could take care of himself if the time came. The obsessed coyote had seen to that. For months he and his followers trained Warren to be a force of stealth and power, putting his body and mind to all manner of tests. They were never directly brutal to the lanky wolf; on the contrary, they treated him with unctuous patience and lavished encouragement upon him. Warren later came to realize that this was most likely due to the fact that he was much larger than the others. Had he not realized this, however, he still would have kept himself far removed from their society, for he harbored a terror of their madness and their blood-lust. Nevertheless, the knowledge of his skill did not make him reckless. He never picked fights with anyone; he abhorred the idea of violence. He had seen too much of it in his early life, and therefore was disgusted and horrified by it. Warren was, to put it simply, a pacifist, though he would not openly acknowledge it. The gray wolf was stirred from his dark memory when the strange wolf mounted the decrepit porch, and smiled at the thanks. He was a tall wolf, just about as tall as Warren himself was, and lanky too. Perhaps they looked like brothers, if one had the right eye to make such a comparison. "Of course," offered Warren in return, and then followed the other's gaze to the towers of bark and leaves around them. "It is, isn't it? It's prettiest when the morning sun is just beginning to filter through the trees." He paused, then added, "It is exceptionally gorgeous now, though. I guess it's beauty changes with the weather." The thought made him smile to himself, and for a moment he was quiet. Then, realizing he was probably coming off rather strange, he looked back at the other male and gestured to his rickety chair. "Would you like a-- oh, my," he stuttered, stopped short at the sight of the bird that was suddenly with them on the porch. That's odd, he thought, until a second voice cut through the thunder and rain, and it was feminine by the sound of it. Just how many others were wandering about in this storm? "Is this your bird?" Warren called out, catching a glimpse of her by a brief flash of lightning. |
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