02-22-2008, 05:28 PM
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Skoll had once been the self-proclaimed protector of Storm, but now it was his turn to require aid. In a way that is how it always should have been. The old protected and nourished the young so that when they were too old to care for themselves any longer the young could step up and return the favor. Phoenix’s first pack hunt might have turned into a tragedy had Skoll not been there to bind his wound. The massive male turned his leg to look down at the scar he still had from that day, a rather sizeable length of skin that started on his chest and ran around his arm. There was always some kind of story behind each scar—and while Phoenix had some doozies, he was sure Skoll had better ones. “A was still pretty much a pup back then. Guess I’m a little over three years old now… I ain’t exactly sure,” he answered. It was odd to think that Skoll was almost old enough to be his grandfather. Up until relatively recently, Phoenix had always looked at Skoll as an elder, but as the two spent more time together Phoenix saw him more as a friend, maybe something somewhat close to a big-brother figure. He wondered how highly he ranked on Skoll’s own friends list. They’d fought side-by-side twice now, which had given Phoenix a glimpse into Skoll’s world. He knew it was not the life for him, but he didn’t think any less of the bronze wolf for living in that world himself. And he hoped Skoll didn’t think any less of him from shying away from warfare—just as with any other friend, Skoll’s opinion mattered to him. “I want’cha to come back to Storm. For good, I mean,” he stated, deciding not to beat around the bush any longer. “You need a better home, an’ we need more members right now. That way we can watch each other’s backs without havin’ t’ travel so far, okay?” He didn’t want to accuse Skoll of not being able to take care of himself; but well, everybody needed help from time to time. And that was what being in a pack was all about. |