I'm a walking animal shelter

Baird Byrne · 07-03-2012, 02:16 PM

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Word Count :: 59604.07.2012. Near the Great Lake (VN side of course) Optime form, Have a quoll pup Big Grin

His life had changed again; he had finally reached his destination of Nova Scotia, but now he was here he didn't know what to do. On his numerous travels he had heard that this country was a place of safety and community for many Two-legs and Four-legs alike, but then he had wandered for so long he was unsure if he could ever settle in one place. He thought back to his awakening on the shores of this new land, and the golden furred woman who had found him. He smirked to himself; settling down with something that pretty wouldn't be so bad. His smirk fell from his muzzle as he remembered the little details of that meeting; she hadn't seemed all that interested in him, she was a match for him in sarcasm, and her fur reminded him of home and his family.

At the thought of family four, sharp little canine teeth sank into the sensitive flesh of his left ear, he cried out in pain and raised one long fingered hand-paw to tug the toothy bundle of brown fuzz that had attached itself to his ear. The quoll pup came away with an almost inaudible tearing noise, Baird assumed that he heard it because it was the ripping of his ear flesh. The dingo man held the pup firmly in front of his face, its two siblings, both male, stared at the little female from either of Bairds shoulders. He frowned at the pup and she quivered slightly in his grasp, suddenly his face broke into a smile, "I can't stay mad at you, you're my little ripper." He chuckled, placing her back on his solid shoulder alongside her brother, who immediately pounced on her, gnawing on her tail. Baird rolled his emerald eyes and looked to the pups mother, his faithful companion, Pangari. The adult quoll only rolled her liquid chocolate eyes back at her friend. From a tree branch a couple of feet away from him a round of raucous laughter erupted. The golden Australian smirked up at his Kookaburra brother.

"What do you see Gelar?" He called, the brown and white bird ruffled his feathers and let forward one Cark that Baird translated as 'nothing.' The dingo shrugged and carried on walking, the scent of pine needles, a smell that he had never experienced properly until he had travelled across Europe, assaulted his nose here. It didn't stop him from sniffing out the pack border that he figured would be here after his chat with Grace yesterday. He made sure to stay away from the border, unwilling to risk the wrath of a pack. If he needed trade or shelter he would call, but for now he wanted to wander and get used to the terrain.

He moved off at an angle to the pack, heading towards the clear, fresh scent of water. He decided he would fill his waterskin with fresh water, he'd have to wash it out first as it had been filled with salt water after his unceremonius arrival by shipwreck. He flicked an ear forward as a sloshing noise came from the waterskin that bumped against his scarred leg at each step, he checked the cord that kept the skin hanging from the band of his loincloth. He then checked the straps of the kangaroo leather bag that rested against his back, it seemed that he had become paranoid about his possessions after their dunk in the ocean. Satisfied that the straps were sound he walked on, sure that he was getting closer and closer to the water source.

Photo courtesy of pierre pouliquin

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