(P) Tomorrow, Today, and Yesterday

Micah Sunrise Lykoi · 03-12-2011, 05:17 PM

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So that was where his sisters had been hiding, was it? A land that smelled of blood and death, with the skulls of their wolven victims lining the borders on stakes like some sort of trophy collection. It was disgusting, even for the boy who rejected all his hippie parents and culture had tried to force upon him, and no amount of — oh, an acorn, how strange for it to be around this time of year! He stopped, mid-trot, began, stopped, began, his chocolate eyes forever on the small seed. He wanted to touch it — no, he didn't need to, it was just an acorn — but it's an acorn. It's out-of-season. A moment's hesitance, and then a shameless gallop onto the little thing, pouncing it like he would them when he was just a pup. Brilliant! Ah, yes, but it's still just an acorn. And so he moved on.

...What had he been thinking about? Oh. No amount of deep thinking or meditation would rouse a reason in him to understand why his earth-loving, skirt-twirling, pot-smoking trio of sisters would ever find reason to feel comfortable in such a dark place. Of course, he had no background to believe the land they stood on wasn't just another Juniper Peace, he supposed, but the hippies he knew well from his childhood would never submit to their typical orgies if a skinless skull was staring down at them. Or several, at that.

Micah knew he had nothing to gain from this place, despite the continent's somewhat crowded population as what he had witnessed elsewhere in his travels. So many packs, and so condensed and close together. How were they not at constant wars, fighting over dominion and land? Juniper Peace had been a transient pack, throughout his childhood to the point where he broke off from them somewhere in central Canada. He had witnessed warring packs, fighting for the most idiotic of reasons, and had been a piece of that war more than once when the peace-loving pack of Junipers meandered stupidly into claimed land, too high on pot or life or rainbows to know any better. More than once they'd had to run with their tails between their legs, barely escaping with their lives.

And so he tread carefully, intimidated by so many creatures living so condensed and close together. He feared every step would put him into the danger of trespassing; he traveled constantly in his four-legged form, red-tipped nose always at the ground, always ensuring there was no set scent he could step over. He could not help but worry. For some reason, he simply just could not stop worrying.

A grand, black castle fell into his view when the boy finally lifted his nose from the ground. After ensuring there were no claiming scents in its surrounding area, he proceeded with the utmost caution towards its door, but froze in the threshold. He found another scent, just a vague one, in the dusty air; ears flipped and tail tucked, he backed away onto the lawn again and sat, waiting, staring at the door. He sat there for some time, but nobody came out. Micah didn't want to trespass. He didn't want to get in trouble.

But eventually he wandered in still, every step the most silent he could manage, his thin and scraggly coyote frame creeping in the shadows, watching where he stepped. He did not want to get covered in dust, after all, so he stepped with a spring in his step, jumping at every creak and groan from the walls and floors. Chocolate eyes gazed at all he passed, and in he passed into what appeared a ballroom.

It was there he found what appeared to be the other visitor to the castle, and once again ears and tail tucked as Micah began to back off. However, it was at that moment the dust caught up in his nose, and in one graceful sneeze did he announce his presence. Caught, he ducked closer to the ground, ears still back, and spoke. "Hello," he said, brown eyes wide and attentive. "What are you doing?"

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