Skoll Haskel was a whole third of a year old, and that fact made him feel invincible.
Definitely, the puppy was a puppy—still undersized compared to most adults even if he was biggish for his age, and his getting-lanky body was disproportionate to his clumsy paws and golden head. But after admiring his reflection earlier in a polished bronze mirror he had found in the temple, he had decided that he was a big boy and could do more fun stuff than when he’d been a little furball. His complete lack of experience with anything huge and scary only embellished his image of princely immortality.
And so the first order of business would be to break the rules for once.
Unlike other children, he was not rebellious by nature, and this covert act was not part of some teenage revolution. However, his curious and brazen nature destroyed the obedience his caretakers had cultivated in him. So far he had only been rewarded for venturing just past the borders—he’d met quite a few interesting characters there, and that only meant there were more new friends to meet in the rest of Nova Scotia!
The forest border was the most interesting to the young Haskel; his wolf blood sang for the scent of musty wood and leaf-litter and strong elk that patrolled through the oaks and ashes. His pupils dilated even before he had properly entered the dark woodlands of Ethereal Eclipse, shadowed by thick branches even though it was brighter without the canopy of leaves.
Practically pushing his nose against the snow and soil, the golden puppy wandered past the territory boundaries. The sense of good and bad lingered in the back of his mind, and with one last glance over his shoulder at his home, he decided that he would not go too far. He did not want to get lost; that was an experience he had no wish to explore.
However, any thoughts of staying in sight of Cour des Miracles land faded from his distracted mind as his nose bumped a weird-smelling patch of snow. His ears and tail came up, and with an excited whine, he pawed aside the pile to see that a deer leg had been stuffed underneath. His stomach rejoiced, and he stuck his face into the mostly eaten carcass, oblivious to the fact that this kill was too fresh to have been properly abandoned.
Tugging strips of cold meat from the bone, the young wolfdog was completely invested in his rescued meal—and so when the thin bobcat launched itself out of the foliage and took a swipe at his haunches, he cried out in surprise. Blood welled from the small but stinging cuts on his rump as he whirled around, fur fluffed up and eyes wide as his chest heaved.
The feline growled quietly, spotted legs moving as it placed a little distance between itself and the canine. Tufted ears flattened as it lifted a clawed paw, hissing crossly when Skoll stupidly stepped toward it. Another rake of its claws opened his nose and made him whimper, hopping backward. Shock was stronger than pain in this case though, and he was too confused to move away from the deer carcass. He had seen smaller, domesticated cats around the Court territory, but this one was about as big as he was—perhaps weighing even less than him. Its temperament betrayed its experience in warding off unruly wolf cubs, however, and when it darted toward him, he could only yelp and skitter away before reclaiming his ground.
What was he supposed to do about this?
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