09-16-2011, 05:44 PM
((OOC: if it's not clear, Alma is in her Optime form))
Alma skittered along the beach of Drifter Bay, trying to avoid the rising tide. Although she'd seen the ocean many times while traveling along the coast, the coywolf still found it fascinating. She was tempted to stay and investigate the shells and driftwood scattered along the beach, but she intended to reach her destination before the sun went down. Besides, she thought the sea air might have worrying effects on her bow...
She traced her fingers along the edge of the curved wood, wondering idly if she would have to replace it soon.
The sand receded into grass the further she went. Some of it had been traveled on before - the long grass was no longer standing upright but pressed down against the earth. The scent of prey animals, and the occasional canine filled her nose. Someone had been here before.
Alma had been told that somewhere nearby, there was a pack of coyotes with a fearsome reputation. Curiosity compelled her to investigate if the claims were true - yet, she also welcomed the thought of being among her own kind, assuming they would think of her as such.
She spotted the border before she actually reached it. Someone had placed a wolf skull on a long wooden pole, splashed with what looked like blood. Scents of coyote rose up as she came closer; she was sure she was in the right place. Alma sniffed the skull curiously, recognizing the scent of death and... paint? She blinked, then shook her head. Even if the blood was fake, the message still mattered.
She set her bow and spear aside, to show she had no intention of attacking, then sat down. On second thought, she placed her flax bag on the ground, too. She would wait. She would not howl, for she found the thought immensely uncomfortable. Could she even make that sound anymore?
Alma skittered along the beach of Drifter Bay, trying to avoid the rising tide. Although she'd seen the ocean many times while traveling along the coast, the coywolf still found it fascinating. She was tempted to stay and investigate the shells and driftwood scattered along the beach, but she intended to reach her destination before the sun went down. Besides, she thought the sea air might have worrying effects on her bow...
She traced her fingers along the edge of the curved wood, wondering idly if she would have to replace it soon.
The sand receded into grass the further she went. Some of it had been traveled on before - the long grass was no longer standing upright but pressed down against the earth. The scent of prey animals, and the occasional canine filled her nose. Someone had been here before.
Alma had been told that somewhere nearby, there was a pack of coyotes with a fearsome reputation. Curiosity compelled her to investigate if the claims were true - yet, she also welcomed the thought of being among her own kind, assuming they would think of her as such.
She spotted the border before she actually reached it. Someone had placed a wolf skull on a long wooden pole, splashed with what looked like blood. Scents of coyote rose up as she came closer; she was sure she was in the right place. Alma sniffed the skull curiously, recognizing the scent of death and... paint? She blinked, then shook her head. Even if the blood was fake, the message still mattered.
She set her bow and spear aside, to show she had no intention of attacking, then sat down. On second thought, she placed her flax bag on the ground, too. She would wait. She would not howl, for she found the thought immensely uncomfortable. Could she even make that sound anymore?