Devil's Thunder

Larkspur D'Angelo · 02-17-2010, 01:46 PM

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Word Count: 341

In Character

Haku had heeded his warning, but Larkspur was aware that something had changed in the air. He sensed it, as certainly as he sensed all things, and it had kept him wary. Still, he believed he was where he was supposed to be—why else would his fur become white in so many places? Perhaps the way to enlightenment was through the darkness, where his world belonged to Tak and the whispering can tah. Though he did not feel entirely comfortable in doing so, Lark had found an empty house with a large fenced in yard and chosen it for himself. For the past few days he had been making sure the horse was cared for. His sleep had become normal again, but this would not last long. It rarely did.

A normal sleep pattern, however, meant Larkspur was up before dawn. He had been up a long time, and was returning from a successful hunt. The rabbit had been swallowed nearly full, and while it was not a lot, it was enough to keep his belly full during the morning. White paws (the front ones had turned white, he had noticed) trotted through the snow, carrying the large black and white male back towards the houses. While he would have turned solitary by nature, Misery’s warning to blend in had demanded otherwise. Now, too, Larkspur knew how to lie. He knew deceit.

He smelled the man before he saw him, and diverted his path in order to follow this. As he turned a corner, he found himself face to face with a white wolf. Almost instantly, and without warning, his lips pulled back and the fur along his neck rose. Larkspur had long ago learned that wickedness came from the White, and he hated the coat without needing a reason. Still, he hid his teeth and forced a calm mask onto his face, though his eyes were burning embers that showed nothing but a deep set hatred. “Mornin’,” his deep voice rumbled, advancing without fear of the equally large male.

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