and a season to sleep.

Harlowe D'Angelo · 03-27-2010, 06:04 AM

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Raven Beacon, all welcome. ((520))

Generally, Harlowe was a very quiet child. He preferred to spend his time indoors, wrapped up in books. At six months of age he was already reading at an advanced level, though he'd only recently learned to shift—prior to his first transformation, Harlowe had been working the books entirely with his mouth. Despite his reading abilities, there was definitely something wrong with him—thus far, he had refused to speak to anyone save his mother, father, and siblings. Harlowe was entirely quiet around anyone else, refusing to even address those he normally spoke with until his familial privacy had been regained. The young wolf knew he had a lot more family than just that, but even so, it didn't matter! He didn't know them, he wouldn't speak to them—it was that simple.

And it was not as if Harlowe hadn't tried to talk to people before. He had, he had tried very hard! But it simply was not to be; his tongue got all thick and twisted in his mouth, and the words simply would not come forth from his throat. Lately, he'd even stopped trying—what was the point of trying to talk to everybody else if they rarely said anything interesting? The tawny-furred male was especially bored with his siblings; all they seemed to be interested in was running about and playing and moving and making noise. They made it incredibly hard for Harlowe to concentrate; that was why he had taken his books with him almost to the edge of the Valley territory today, intending to curl up on the beach for a few hours and spend his time devouring Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises. He was loving it; he had already worked his way through The Old Man and the Sea but he was enjoying this one even more.

The gangly Optime made his way across the beach, moving carefully. Though he had only just learned to shift, the addition of his opposable thumbs was miraculous. He no longer had to hold the books with his forepaws, carefully flipping each page with his teeth. He'd torn a number of pages that way, though thankfully he hadn't damaged any of the books beyond repair. Some of them just had a few toothmarks, that was all. But now—thumbs! He could actually hold his books. The lighthouse loomed up in front of him, a somewhat familiar sight—Naniko had, of course, shown Harlowe and his siblings all over Phoenix Valley. Still, Harlowe felt as if he was just learning the lay of the land—he was only just allowed to run around by himself, though he'd been forbidden to leave the packlands. He'd already broken that rule at least twice, venturing beyond the perimeter just to see what it was like.

The cream-furred youth leaned up against the off-white wall of the lighthouse, sliding down to a sitting position. The sun shone rather merrily, and there was little wind to whip his pages around—just the perfect day for reading. Harlowe quickly became absorbed in his novel, his olive-green eyes scanning each page with remarkable speed.

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