air[p]lanes like shooting stars.

Rook · 06-14-2011, 01:32 AM

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{WC: 287} Whoaaa those’re neat… :o !! I think he just might… lol.

Rook’s ears turned forward as he glanced back to his companion, hanging on his every word. More planes… in Halifax. He grinned now, mentally taking note that he would have to visit the city sometime. Barrett stated that he often traversed there and the coyote simply chimed, “Sure, perhaps sometime after the weather cools a bit? Sounds like a plan to me.” The youth then shared that there wasn’t much to the territory besides a base where the “airborne bus” had supposedly been headed. Interesting.

He glanced down to his feet then to the plane before them in the distance. Trucks and other strange vehicles, Barrett had mentioned. “Ah,” Rook mused. The sound of a something being shoved across the field caught his attention. The dark canine had turned his attention to one of the abandoned crates. The coyote pulled his hands out of his shorts and raised his right one to shield his gaze as he looked across the field. He counted the scattered rectangular objects he could easily see, not including the ones that were open or apparently overturned with some or all of their flaps spread out.

“Beats me,” he said quietly, leering at the crate closest to the one Barrett had just nudged with his foot. “Hopefully something of value?” The only time Rook had ever had the chance to open a box-like object was when his father had toted back a large, curious white tin he had found. Inside had been a variety of first aid items: gauze, strange discolored tablets, tweezers and gloves. He slowly approached the box he had been eyeing then knelt down. “Whatcha think’s in ‘em?” he asked, eyeing the broken plane before brainstorming. “Tools? Clothes? Weapons? …Books?”

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