Same song, different melody
#1
[html]

Frozen leaves cruched under her paws as the black wolf padded away from town. The cold air seemed to energize her, and as none but the strongest wind could cut through her coat, she was quite warm. As her muscles warmed up she broke into a slow lope, her paws drumming a familier beat on the earth. The last few days had been... amazing. She was part of a pack again, and the joy that came with that knowlege was overwhelming. She hadn't been that happy since before her brother's death.

Being new to the pack, Voron knew very few of the members. While not antisocial, she was accustomed to being on her own. Even before her mother had driven her away, she had had very little contact with wolves outside her immediate family. And although she would never admit it, some of the wolves around here scared her silly. She knew that her old pack's ways were strange and outdated, but the customs had been drilled into her since birth. And when she greeted a superior wolf with her tail between her legs and belly brushing the earth, she got strange looks. No one was unfriendly to her, but she felt alien.
Voron slowed to a trot as she wondered if she'd be happy anywhere. When she had been a wanderer, all she wanted was a pack. Now look at me! she thought. I finally have a pack, and I'm out wandering around alone again. She slowed even further, to a slow walk. Her nostrils flared as she scented the air. A pricking of her rounded ears showed that she found what she wanted. The black wolf turned north and trotted for a few minutes untill she reached a fast flowing stream. Her sharp white teeth flashed as her tounge lapped up the ice cold water. Sated, the black she-wolf sat back on her haunches and stared into the crystal clear waters.


"Zhizn' prozhit' ne pole pereyti," she said quietly, the forgein words flowing easily out of her mouth. The saying seemed to relax her, as speaking Russian always did. It brought back memories of her father's kind golden eyes staring at as she struggled with the words. Now Russian was almost as familiar to her as English. She would forever be thankful to her father for that gift.

[/html] 


Messages In This Thread

Forum Jump: