Word Count → 336
Levent frowned faintly as the man described his brother’s attitude toward the cat, but the expression deepened and grew ashamed when he mentioned a drunken game. His mind flickered back to the night with Amy, a story and wine and thrown knives, ending in an entanglement on the camp floor. He remembered his friend’s scathing words and the morning after, where he’d dragged himself after the cat hung-over and apologetic. It wasn’t a memory he liked to dwell on, but it came alive in his pale eyes before he looked away.
Wilson also tensed, glancing to his lifelong companion, but otherwise his expression and body language gave nothing away. He flicked his tail dismissively at Niernan’s thanks and began to trot toward the trail the wolf indicated—only to have to dodge a foot landing near him. Pulling his long tail close to his body, he skipped out of the way and kept a safe distance from luperci paws.
Levent followed as well, moving carefully to avoid the rut the male had caused from slamming into the earth. He waited until the faint scent of cat came to him and started to follow that trail, trusting that closer-to-the-ground Wilson would keep them on track while they were in optime. Until the odor got stronger, however, he knew there would be some time before they found the kitten.
Until then, he made due with small talk, catching the handsome male in the corner of his eye. So, Niernan, where are you from? And where are you staying in Nova Scotia? The other smelled like other wolves, perhaps not thick and strong enough for a pack, but a family at least—if he was right. Could be he was just picking up on something faint, a brush of acquaintances rather than dwelling with a lot of others fall the time.
Meanwhile, Wilson opened his mouth to let the scent washed in and occasionally let out a ringing meow in hopes it might be answered by the other cat.
table by raze; images from wikipedia commons
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