this summer's going to the dogs.

Rook · 06-25-2011, 08:02 PM

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{WC: 459}

Having adjusted to possessing such things like helpful pack mates and a wide territory to explore without needing to worry about other predators Rook was actually thriving for once. Well, actually, perhaps not… in spirit, maybe, but by means of finding meals the young coyote had had quite a bit of terrible luck. He had actually filled out a bit since he had arrived to Crimson Dreams’ territory, but he was still the slightly lean and timid young man that had stumbled into McNamara’s Landing a month ago in search of sustenance and good company. His stomach growled as he crept past the edge of the Orchard on all fours; the rumbling sound had caught him by surprise and caused him to wildly look around in hopes that no one had heard it.

When he wasn’t daydreaming about Soiled Pies (baked with real strips of tripe or tart blackberries) or haphazardly-discovered leftovers by things that lurked at the pack’s borders, he often spent his time trying to catch birds and mice. Fish, rabbits and anything a little larger were, at this point, considered a waste of energy. Oftentimes he would retreat back to his hiding place and wait out the day or night and hope breakfast or dinner would come sooner than expected in the form of an inexperienced fledgling, a plump rodent, or a decrepit old hare. Taking his prey by surprise was usually his best asset when it came to hunting.

He trotted along the rows of trees with both of his large ears turned forward in mild interest; his nose had led him here by the sweet scent of apples and he was wholeheartedly considering that he could possibly make a meal of one of the large red fruits and call it a day. Then suddenly, a howl rang out… Rook froze and stared wildly in the direction from where it had come from. Something had been spotted… Here. He blinked and considered for a moment to turn around and head back the way he came. A sigh broke the silence around him and he strode forward, determined to discover what the ruckus was about.

Within a few minutes of walking, he spotted two wolves: one tawny, the other a stark black… Barrett? One of his ears folded back as the other remained upright. After a few seconds, a rather happy whine whistled from his throat and his black-tipped tail swept jubilantly along the ground at his heels. He approached the pair cautiously before stopping a good distance away from them. Sitting down, he figured would be a good start; and, as he lowered himself onto his haunches, he shot them a curious gaze and a soft yip, wondering if he was welcome to join them.

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