I'm always trav'lin, and I love being free

Baird Byrne · 07-15-2012, 07:43 AM

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Word Count :: 661Back dated to 13.07.12. Optime form (loinclothed.) Pan, Gelar and 2 quoll pups present. The Sugarwoods

Baird was glad that he was out of the mountains, he'd been walking through forests for two days now and he loved it. The mountainous terrain reminded him little of home, but it was too much of a reminder for him, at least the forests of Nova Scotia had no resemblance to the forests of home. He admired the tall trees and all of the very green foliage, aware that he stood out like a sore thumb in the brown and green environment, his sandy fur better suited to the deserts of the Australian outback. He hummed as he walked, the tune one that had been passed down through the dingo tribe that he had been born into, he couldn't remember all of the lyrics but he knew that they suited him well, being all about an Aussie traveller that still called only one place home; The Lucky Country itself.

He glanced up into the trees to see Pan and Gelar racing each other, the kookaburra was gliding between trees, turning and banking sharply to avoid branches and trunks with ease. Pan was using those branches to leap from tree to tree, easily keeping pace with the bird, the two were conversing in Low Speech as they raced, from the little he knew of their languages Baird could tell that they were bantering. He smiled, loving the fact that Pan was finally exercising. She had been lazy since they had reached Nova Scotia and she hadn't lost the pup weight she had put on while pregnant, but now she seemed to have plenty of energy and was keen on losing her flabby bits.

The two male pups that clung to his shoulder watched their mother with desire, he knew that they wanted to play too, but right now he wanted them safely in his sights, they were in strange territory and he didn't want to lose them. The larger of the pups tried to get away from Baird, launching himself from the dingo's shoulder, but the Australian caught the pup in mid-air, tucking the little bundle of fluff into his arms, "No way you little ankle biter, there's no way you're going walkabout only to come a gutser." He flipped the pup over in his hand and tickled his tummy gaining squeaks of delight from the russet furred quoll. His brother, the more chocolate brown furred pup seemed to feel left out and snuggled up to Bairds neck, but when that didn't work he sank his teeth into the flesh of Bairds jaw. Baird cried out in pain and abruptly stopped the tickling of the pups tummy, he raised his free hand-paw up to his face where the pup was hanging off his jaw. He yanked the pup away from his flesh and stared into the little animals beady eyes. He frowned at the pup "Little spoiled bugger, aren't ya?" He half growled. He blew in the quoll's face, making the pup screw up his little features. Baird nodded, as if that sorted everything and placed the pup back on his shoulder, "No more biting!" He stipulated. The other, larger pup was also placed on his shoulders, where he settled down and chirruped happily.

He looked up again and noticed that Pan was the only one of his companions in sight. He whistled to Pan, she glanced down and shrugged at Baird, hardly breaking her stride. Baird sighed, he was sure the bird would be back soon, but he hated it when Gelar flew off. He knew the kookaburra well enough to know that he often got distracted and this was not the place for the bird to disappear; he could smell a pack border close by and he didn't know what kind of pack they were and if they shot strange birds... With that panicked thought in his mind he raised his muzzle to the tree canopy and let forth a stream of short, sharp barks, summoning the kookaburra back to him.

Photo courtesy of pierre pouliquin

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