And i will walk on water

Anatole Aston · 01-10-2012, 01:43 AM

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(308)I lol'ed so hard at your reply.

Instinctively, Anatole would have fought. He was used to such things. Running with a rogue bachelor pack had turned him suspicious of other men, though he had never been so friendly with strangers to begin with. Luckily, AniWaya presented little in the term of actual threats. There was one older warrior who seemed too disgraced to make any ruckus, and so far, only their leader seemed any way challenging.

Yet when the boy whipped around with his spear in hand, a flash of instinctive aggression seared in Anatole’s eyes and turned them a vibrant, terrible neon. The tips of his teeth gleamed as his lips pulled away, heavyset things inherited from a man long-dead by his birth. Corvus may have never touched his son as he had his daughter (and the other daughter whom lived north of this land) but oh he had marked Anatole in color and in size. This instant of violence was surpassed by the sudden yelp; old man!?

His mouth literally fell open, startled by the insult. Along his back his fur puffed up, but his tail comically so—his head rose sharply, though there was no true hierarchy within AniWaya (save the masters, of which they had done) and shot his ears forward. Old man? What was this kid playing? He wasn’t old by half. Frowning severely, the dark wolf trotted forward and growled at the spear-tip. “Someone who knows a kid that doesn’t know how to hold a spear. Put it down before you hurt yourself.” He grinned in a cruel way, wondering how easy it would be to snap the wooden thing out of the boy’s hand. The thought amused him in its own way, and he flopped down on his haunches to show his aggression was unfounded. “Does your mother know you make a habit of attacking your fellow Tribesmen?”

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