[aw] udugigvdi ale gvgeyui

Anatole Aston · 07-07-2012, 06:32 PM

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(300) mine now

There was one thing, above all others, that Anatole excelled at—tracking. He was made for it. Long legged and fast of pace, he was not only fast enough but burly enough to get through most terrain without difficulty. At present, he was tracking something unusual. It was unusual if only for the fact it smelled of disease. It was a sickly scent, one not of illness but of soured flesh. He trailed the scent with his head low and nose to the earth, moving at the fast-paced lope of a man on a mission.

So when the woods parted deftly ahead of him, Anatole hardly noticed. What he did notice was the shadow above him; instinctively, as is the nature of animals who recognize there is some danger in the sky, he felt the fur bristle along his back. This passed momentarily, for he was used to the impressive wingspan and the feeling that came with it. Even though he and Donoma were constantly separated, he sensed her in everything he did. This was why he finally lifted his head, when the scent diverged in twain.

A stranger was at the edge of the field. Anatole’s instinct was to bark at him and raise questions, but he was learning (and this far more quickly than being polite) to take more in before he started demanding things. The wolf was obviously no stranger to the Tribe; he was dressed for the part, and unless his nose was lying, the deer next to him was a spirit.

“Of course she is,” the eagle said, swooping low and landing on a branch above his head. Anatole snorted bullishly and thought better of opening his mouth to make any smart comment. Instead he settled back onto his haunches and awaited the man’s approach.

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