rumor has it!

[Kinkade]

[html]

Darkness clung to the early morning like a protective shroud; the grass was beaded with dew, and the songbirds wouldn’t begin to sing for an hour, at least. There was an eerie calm upon this part of the world, which still slept beneath a moon that had only just made way for the first light of daybreak. Kinkade’s dull nails dug into the soft earth as she tarried around the outskirts of a clearly marked territory, her oceanic eyes pinned dubiously upon the trees that smelt of dominance and leadership. Two pieces of a whole clamored in a cacophony of disagreement with one another -- one protested, and demanded that the prospect of a pack be left alone entirely; yet the stubborn girl cocked an ear to the voice of quiet need, which yearned for socialization despite a rather uncanny knack for angering what kin she found, especially authoritative figures. She huffed indignantly, but decisively lowered her tail to show acceptance as a lesser presence, despite the way her expression twisted with obvious displeasure at the notion. Kinkade continued to roam, giving wide berth to the territorial line drawn to keep sniffing outsiders, like her, out. Daylight had infiltrated the clouds, infusing them with lovely hues of gold, orange and pink. As she’d dawdled, the birds had shaken the sleep from their feathers and now the sound of exuberant twittering drifted through the air. Her paws were slick and damp from the dew that clung to her gossamer fur, from the hour she’d traced and re-traced her steps outside the threshold of acceptance.


At last she became tired and frustrated with her indecision, choosing instead to spontaneously halt mid-stride and throw her maw to the sky in a deliberate summons. The breeze combed the tendrils of her pearlesque fleece into a tumultuous frenzy; they whipped away from her flesh, almost angrily -- as if they protested Kinkade’s decision to seek out a pack. Even her bones seemed to quiver and quake with discord. As her eyes returned to precariously search the trees for an answer to her beckoning, her teeth clenched in anticipation and worry. Her shoulders were lax, and the countenance she wore was steely and composed. The silvery she-wolf perched like a statue for several long, dragging moments, before she decided the wait might be awhile; with bitter resolve to concede, she let her haunches fall into the moist grass, ears attentive and oceanic eyes steadily searching for company to address the questions and strange scents here that remained unanswered.


Word Count: 422