That special place.

Zarin Ardalan · 05-30-2010, 09:18 AM

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Word count: 335.
Hope this is okay – haven’t RP’d in a while. Smile

The rolling hills of the valley were off-set by the mass collection of cotton-like clouds, joined by the warm essence of the solar rays slicing thought the sky. Scattered around were small condensed patches of woodland in which Zarin used to manufacture a new set of arrows, which were held in a leather quiver, strapped to his back for the hunting later in the day. The ground was fresh to the touch and the grass felt different from his homeland - an air of comfort, and a welcoming sense of freedom.

He etched forward on his two legs, roaming the valley and taking in the environment assessing every element from the skies, to the almost statuesque landscape. The wind blew through his coat, tickling his senses. A faint whistle was being carried through the air. It perked Zarin’s everlasting curious nature to learn more due to his secluded past, inept from contact with other life forms, other then his surrogate mother back in the highlands of Scotland. He thought to himself ‘friend or foe’. The anticipation of knowing where the sound was coming from filled Zarin with joy.

His pace quickened to a march-like walk, but still cautious to what he might discover. A greyish figure sat upon the top of a hill a way in the distance. Zarin’s steps grew slower - in the attempt not to seem hostile. Violence was not an objective in his eyes. As he grew closer to the figure, the blur came to focus. It was a medium-grey wolf, and what seemed to be a small snowy coloured chick, relaxing and enjoying the day, as if to collect oneself.

He approached the male wolf and parted his maw, in an attempt to make contact with the other. “Greetings, I am Zarin Ardalan.” His pose was relaxed, but inwardly he was on-edge, as the Mohawk-wearing canine was unknown to him - trust was hard to come by with Zarin. He paused, staring blankly at his companion - awaiting a response.

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