start with your name.

[Claudius Aston]

WC: 456

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[/html]Claudius had nearly dropped his clay pot at the sound of the howl. Never had he expected his brother to return. The thought that he would have to go speak with his brother made his heart leap into his throat, and again, he fumbled with his clay pot and nearly dropped it -- again. His hands now shaking, he slowly and carefully set the pot aside. He had realized that his skills were limited to only dyeing and that if he truly wanted to become a better craftsman, he should seek out other skills. So, he had been practicing with painting; though, he wasn’t too sure how to make the colours as vividly as his dyes. They also refused to stick sometimes, which annoyed him to no end. No matter; he would return to this problem later.

He stood up slowly and unconsciously dusted the dirt off his pelt. It was a human habit that he had somehow picked up, perhaps from his readings. His mother would be proud (would she?)

He bent down and picked up his jars of homemade paint and firmly sealed the lids. He then set them next to his clay pot and straightened up once he was done. He walked to the door his den, which was normally obscured by a caribou pelt, but today had been pulled back to let in the light. He took it down and let it hang across the cave entrance and then weighed it down with rocks. Ever conscious of the smaller mammals, he didn’t want anything to ruin his work.

He then took a deep breath -- to calm his jittery nerves -- and shifted into his lupus form. It took him a good five minutes before he was done because he was so nervous. He had not seen Attila in over a year, after all. He replied with a howl of his own to let his brother know he would come to find him. He hoped he hadn’t sounded as anxious in the howl as he actually felt.

One more deep breath and he was off. To see his brother. The journey to the edge of the territory did not take long; unlike most of the tribe, he lived in a cave in the south and was therefore closer to the southern border than anyone else.

He arrived quicker than he’d anticipated. It seemed as though for most of the run, he’d been a little spacey, so he felt like it hadn’t taken any time at all. But he needed more time. This was all too soon. He hadn’t seen Attila in a year.

He approached slowly and called out cautiously: “A-a-a-tt-ila.” Ever present the stutter.

He hadn’t seen him in a year.[html]

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