07-30-2008, 11:11 AM
Leland arrives, won’t someone come welcome him to Souls? Excuse my extensive rant of wolves vs dogs XD I know it’s the bulk of my post, I got carried away.
The sky seemed to have been pouring down rain for weeks. On and off and on for a good long time the last few days it had rained. The week before too many of the days had been filled with rain. And the week before that, rain as well. Leland couldn’t quite remember the weather of the week before that, but he guessed it had rained, and he was growing sick of the storms. Although he traveled in the rain, he didn’t like to. Didn’t like the feeling of his fur being wet, didn’t like the overcast sky and the lack of a cheery sun. Although, if he was to be honest, he didn’t mind the mud squishing up between his toes, that at least was pleasant. And here he was again, legs pumping and broad dog feet splashing through puddles and mud, not quite sure where he was going, only sure that eventually, he would get somewhere.
Larger than the average husky, husky mix, malamute or any of those other compact sled dogs that the humans were so found of breeding, Leland’s built was that of a small wolf, although he was stocky and well muscled, a deep barrel chest and broad head complemented his overly large paws. Despite the genetics lovingly donated by his wolf ancestors, some distant and not so distant, his coat and face were pure dog even if his size was not quite. Typical husky markings of a red-copper coat with a white mask and belly made sure that he could never be mistaken for a wolf and his face was shaped like that of a husky as well. His muzzle was shorter than that of a wolf though his head somewhat larger and blockier. It was the fact that he knew, quite well, how different he would appear, that when Leland stumbled into the area and his nose was assaulted by numerous scents of wolves, some fresh but many quite faded (the land must not be claimed, only one they passed through regularly), he became somewhat concerned.
Growing up in a clan where the interbreeding of wolves and dogs wasn’t uncommon, as well as co-habiting even in the same pack, Leland was quite accustomed to their ways... which really weren’t that much different than his own. Having been wild for generations now, the silly traits that many dogs had acquired to please their masters had vanished, but that was not to say that many cultural differences did not exist between a pack of dogs and a pack of wolves. Still, his clan of northern dogs liked to retain their look, which now after so many years of breeding between the breeds created a unique mixture of malamutes, Siberian huskies, Alaskan huskies, samoyeds, and many other breeds he didn’t know the name for or care to. Leland looked most closely like a very large Siberian husky, though if a human were around they might mistake him for a malamute as well, though neither would be quite wrong (he had a some of both) and neither would be accurate either (there was so much more thrown into the mix).
Leland was also quite aware that at times, different creatures didn’t get along, and his pack had more than their share of run ins with less than open minded wolves. Of course it worked the other way, as his best friend-a full blood wolf-had been killed at the hands of one of his own kind, something that helped set his decision to leave. And so, the question was, how did these wolves, or the majority of them, feel about his kind? The answer didn’t really matter, as he had to cross through these lands anyway as he headed north, and he didn’t know how big these lands were. It might be only a few miles before he was back in solitude, which was how he had spent much of his journey. And if he did run into them, so much the better. Maybe this was the type of place to settle down. Leland stepped into the forest, darkened and cooled even more than the day already was by the thick branches hanging above, though they did little to keep out the rain. So far, so good.
The sky seemed to have been pouring down rain for weeks. On and off and on for a good long time the last few days it had rained. The week before too many of the days had been filled with rain. And the week before that, rain as well. Leland couldn’t quite remember the weather of the week before that, but he guessed it had rained, and he was growing sick of the storms. Although he traveled in the rain, he didn’t like to. Didn’t like the feeling of his fur being wet, didn’t like the overcast sky and the lack of a cheery sun. Although, if he was to be honest, he didn’t mind the mud squishing up between his toes, that at least was pleasant. And here he was again, legs pumping and broad dog feet splashing through puddles and mud, not quite sure where he was going, only sure that eventually, he would get somewhere.
Larger than the average husky, husky mix, malamute or any of those other compact sled dogs that the humans were so found of breeding, Leland’s built was that of a small wolf, although he was stocky and well muscled, a deep barrel chest and broad head complemented his overly large paws. Despite the genetics lovingly donated by his wolf ancestors, some distant and not so distant, his coat and face were pure dog even if his size was not quite. Typical husky markings of a red-copper coat with a white mask and belly made sure that he could never be mistaken for a wolf and his face was shaped like that of a husky as well. His muzzle was shorter than that of a wolf though his head somewhat larger and blockier. It was the fact that he knew, quite well, how different he would appear, that when Leland stumbled into the area and his nose was assaulted by numerous scents of wolves, some fresh but many quite faded (the land must not be claimed, only one they passed through regularly), he became somewhat concerned.
Growing up in a clan where the interbreeding of wolves and dogs wasn’t uncommon, as well as co-habiting even in the same pack, Leland was quite accustomed to their ways... which really weren’t that much different than his own. Having been wild for generations now, the silly traits that many dogs had acquired to please their masters had vanished, but that was not to say that many cultural differences did not exist between a pack of dogs and a pack of wolves. Still, his clan of northern dogs liked to retain their look, which now after so many years of breeding between the breeds created a unique mixture of malamutes, Siberian huskies, Alaskan huskies, samoyeds, and many other breeds he didn’t know the name for or care to. Leland looked most closely like a very large Siberian husky, though if a human were around they might mistake him for a malamute as well, though neither would be quite wrong (he had a some of both) and neither would be accurate either (there was so much more thrown into the mix).
Leland was also quite aware that at times, different creatures didn’t get along, and his pack had more than their share of run ins with less than open minded wolves. Of course it worked the other way, as his best friend-a full blood wolf-had been killed at the hands of one of his own kind, something that helped set his decision to leave. And so, the question was, how did these wolves, or the majority of them, feel about his kind? The answer didn’t really matter, as he had to cross through these lands anyway as he headed north, and he didn’t know how big these lands were. It might be only a few miles before he was back in solitude, which was how he had spent much of his journey. And if he did run into them, so much the better. Maybe this was the type of place to settle down. Leland stepped into the forest, darkened and cooled even more than the day already was by the thick branches hanging above, though they did little to keep out the rain. So far, so good.