Lets make a wager on that

Frodo Silvertongue · 12-11-2011, 09:48 AM

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Word Count :: 000 hehe sounds good

Sleeping rough wasn’t one of Frodo’s favourite things to do, however sleeping in a stables next to a horse didn’t count as sleeping rough to the tyke. The young man had seen plenty worse areas for sleeping in his days, especially recently when the nights had been cold and he had been alone, forced to sleep on the ground outside. At least in a stable, he had a roof over his head. The black and auburn male lifted his head and stretched, breathing in the scents of musky horses and their excrement. He was, however, used to the smells, having been brought up with horses; or specifically one horse. The great, muscled white flank of a beast next to him had been Frodo’s pillow for the night. Gingerly, he man stumbled to his feet and looked over his shoulder with bleary eyes. The white stallion strider was thick in sleep. Acknowledging this, Frodo made sure to be silent and sure as he looked around. They were in one of the smallest area’s, it was empty apart from himself and the horse. Or so he thought…

Frodo rummaged in one saddle bag that lay to the corner of the barned area, strewn in the straw. There were two saddle bags, a saddle, a bridle, and a satchel all thrown to one side. That was all they’d brought with them on their journey back here. Still he fingered the items in the sack - it was meant co consist on mostly dried food - and to his amazement, he found half of the food he’d saved up gone. N’awww…. he cried angrily. You gotta be pullin’ my plonker…. Frodo scowled, and then something bit him from inside the bag. ACK! the Silvertongue pulled out his hand, from which hung from one finger a very plump looking rat. Not thinking twice about it, the man shook his hand once, twice, three times, but the rat’s jaws had an iron grip. Eventually, Frodo managed to pull the rodent away with his free hand. He held the squirming creature up by it’s scruff and looked into it’s beady black eyes, angrily sucking his bleeding paw at the same time. Frodo wasn’t that good with low speech but it was obvious what the rat was trying to say. let go! Frodo shook his head, opened a small wooden box on the ground with his foot, and dropped the rat inside, before snapping the lid down. He’d been lucky the box was there. It seemed it was some sort of container for horse feed. The fact that a rat had gotten into his food seemed impossible to Frodo. But then the thought struck him that perhaps the rat had originally been on the pirate ship, for there were thousands of them there, and had hitch-hiked his way in the saddle bags all through Frodo’ journey. The wolf man scowled. I’ll deal wit’ you later, squirt. Frodo said, smiling a little down at the box, in spite of himself.

Now his month worth food supply was half gone, it was time to find some more. Absently, the titan grabbed a blue shirt, buttoned it around his optime body, fastened his bandana and cloak around his neck, and then shouldered his oaken bow and leather quiver. He was ready. Frodo strolled out of the stall, closing the wooden door behind him quietly. The horse was still asleep. Mr Silvertongue nodded to the rest of the animals in the stable before skipping out, his elegant, small form mimicking the gentle poise of a doe as he plundered out into the packlands, a bounce in each stride. It was early in the day, only just sunrise, so he was surprised when he caught the scent of another male out in the early hours. Curious, Frodo followed the potent smell. Just because there was something about it that reminded him of himself; it smelt of kills, and prey, and practice. Frodo’s own scent was a challenging one to mimic, that of a loners, a mixture of wilderness and fresh grass. Frodo finally saw the pale canine up ahead, and decided to approach, despite being quite intimidated by the muscled, secui form. Optime form was Frodo’s preferred. His intense green eyes scoured over the stranger silently, noticing he seemed just outside the borders of AniWaya despite smelling of the pack. My brother! he called out in greeting. Of course they were not litter mates but they were still kin in Frodo’s eyes, as it seemed Light was a hunter like himself, and shared his home and pack. Frodo sped up into a gentle lope and drew to a halt a little space away. Been dashing around like a frogger, has I… Frodo said breathlessly in his odd accent. I’m Frodo. ‘Ave you seen any critters round ‘ere? Birdies, perhaps?

Image courtesy of Scott Hudson **; Table by the Mentors!

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