Word Count :: 360
The prince hid in the snow, narrowing his eyes slyly at the canines coming toward him. He was unsure whether or not he wanted to jump out at them and scare them; his brother and sister sometimes snapped at him in surprise when he pounced out of nowhere, which hurt, and they were only kids like him. No, he’d just watch them and gain intelligence or whatever it was you were supposed to gain during war. Because he was clever.
But then he actually caught sight of the goliath that was the approaching luperci, and he had to fight from gasping. He craned his snow-covered head to stare at the elder, but movement closer to his level snatched his attention. A gold and black puppy was looking at him, and he tried to remain perfectly still until her tongue flicked his nose. He yelped in surprise, backpedaling and dislodging the snow before bursting out into laughter. He was about to growl playfully at her when he remembered the giant grownup, and he froze once he was upright, glancing at the man carefully.
The little girl made noise at him, and Skoll realized that she was trying to speak, though what came out of her mouth sounded odd. Dark flop ears bounced as she looked to her caretaker for guidance, and she finally settled on “Hello.”
The blonde boy beamed at her. “Hello!” he replied in an excited bark, and he jumped toward her to playfully bite one of her dark ears—very gently, of course, as he was getting better at playing with children younger than him. He more or less ignored the watchful grownup, dancing around the pup with his chin high and his tail wagging. “I’m Skoll Haskel,” he said, and his green eyes finally slid to the adult, where he grew sheepish. He supposed he’d offer him a bigger fact than just his name, in case the elder was wondering where he was from and how far away he was from home. “I live ’n Cour des Miracles.” He turned his head to point in the direction of the territory, momentary exposing his neck to the girl.
Image courtesy of Frank Wuestefeld @ flickr; Table by the Mentors!
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