10-08-2009, 05:36 PM
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411 words~
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Sofia knew very well that she was in no place to be judgmental. Her skin wasn't marred by line after line and she had both ears, but her ribs curved quite unattractively out from short, coarse, ragged fur. Any sane creature would avoid someone that looked like her, and she wasn't very sure if it was a good or bad thing that she'd had no chance to look into a mirror of any sort recently. Luckily, the wolf wasn't as offended as she could have been by Sofi's social error. She still felt like the apology had been necessary, because no matter who inflicted em upon the darker wolf it must suck to have so much staring all the time. The attention she got from other wolves based on her skinniness was bad enough, and that was self-inflicted. Sort of. Mostly hunting got harder as the cancer spread, and she didn't feel up to putting in the effort as much as she should.
Finn, was her name. It was a strange name for a girl, Sofi thought. She knew two Finns from the pack in which she grew up; one was a few months younger and another was the father of a friend. Strange, but whatever. Who was she to judge? "Yeah.. I've been living around here for a few months. Don't really have a pack or much of a home around here, so I'm pretty used to being out and about in this weather." A slightly noticeable flinch at rumbling thunder seemed to belie her statement, but really, half a year ago she would be cowering under a blanket curled up in some dark dry place, likely with her father murmuring comforting words. Her easily summoned fright reduced to a flinch at the unsettling noise was quite a dramatic reduction indeed.
"I'm heading towards this one pack to try and join 'em, though. I think I'm done with being a loner, for a while." Finn didn't smell much like the land around here, and definitely not of any of the packs in particular. Sofi had spent the past three months scouring these lands from top to bottom; rain or not, she would have been able to pick out the sickly sweet scent of Dahlia de Mai or the pale, dreamy sort of scent of Crimson Dreams, or any of the packs, really. "You're new around here, I think?" Hesitation, never really wanting to commit to an assumption that might be wrong.
411 words~
ic -
Sofia knew very well that she was in no place to be judgmental. Her skin wasn't marred by line after line and she had both ears, but her ribs curved quite unattractively out from short, coarse, ragged fur. Any sane creature would avoid someone that looked like her, and she wasn't very sure if it was a good or bad thing that she'd had no chance to look into a mirror of any sort recently. Luckily, the wolf wasn't as offended as she could have been by Sofi's social error. She still felt like the apology had been necessary, because no matter who inflicted em upon the darker wolf it must suck to have so much staring all the time. The attention she got from other wolves based on her skinniness was bad enough, and that was self-inflicted. Sort of. Mostly hunting got harder as the cancer spread, and she didn't feel up to putting in the effort as much as she should.
Finn, was her name. It was a strange name for a girl, Sofi thought. She knew two Finns from the pack in which she grew up; one was a few months younger and another was the father of a friend. Strange, but whatever. Who was she to judge? "Yeah.. I've been living around here for a few months. Don't really have a pack or much of a home around here, so I'm pretty used to being out and about in this weather." A slightly noticeable flinch at rumbling thunder seemed to belie her statement, but really, half a year ago she would be cowering under a blanket curled up in some dark dry place, likely with her father murmuring comforting words. Her easily summoned fright reduced to a flinch at the unsettling noise was quite a dramatic reduction indeed.
"I'm heading towards this one pack to try and join 'em, though. I think I'm done with being a loner, for a while." Finn didn't smell much like the land around here, and definitely not of any of the packs in particular. Sofi had spent the past three months scouring these lands from top to bottom; rain or not, she would have been able to pick out the sickly sweet scent of Dahlia de Mai or the pale, dreamy sort of scent of Crimson Dreams, or any of the packs, really. "You're new around here, I think?" Hesitation, never really wanting to commit to an assumption that might be wrong.