08-14-2008, 02:23 PM
[html]
[/html]
http://i144.photobucket.com/albums/r173 ... header.jpg); background-attach:top center; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color:#162022;">
AW, the Dampwoods.
sharksIt had stormed hard the night before, and the morning had found the forest covered with puddles and mud, the greenery glistening with dew. When he'd lived in a house on the beach, he had liked the rain a lot. Those mornings, the sand would be more solid and compact, making it easier to walk on, not to mention dozens of degrees cooler than it was on other summer days. After storms, the ocean was more beautiful with her raging white-tipped waves and deep blue-green color. He had liked to watch the lightning from the window of his room, marveling at every flash and every subsequent thunderclap, and he had loved falling asleep to the sounds of droplets smacking against the glass. It had comforted him to know that he could be inside, away from those harsh elements, a place where he could admire the sheer beauty of it all.
sharksBut that bedroom no longer existed. Along with the rest of his childhood home, it had burned to the ground. He had spent the previous night huddled under a large oak, freezing under his cloak, and nursing a weak fire. Arkham supposed he could have waited out the storm in his father's cabin, but he had not wanted his scent to linger, and he would have felt uneasy with the idea anyway without having spoken to the man first. Besides, anything that didn't kill him would only make him stronger, right? Though the clouds shifted around the sky slowly, unable to decide whether the sun should be allowed to shine, the coyote had hung his soaked clothing on the oak's branches anyway. It had been the first time since arriving that he'd allowed himself to shed the disguise, but he didn't really have much of a choice at this point. He could only hope that one of the few people that might recognize him didn't make their way there before everything dried.
sharksThe fire was a bit more healthy now that the rain had stopped, however temporarily, and the grey coyote sat next to it, mulling over things as usual and sharpening his knife with a rock. The belt containing all of his various other small weapons and tools lay across the log where he sat. He wondered if rabbits would be out so soon after a storm.
sharksIt had stormed hard the night before, and the morning had found the forest covered with puddles and mud, the greenery glistening with dew. When he'd lived in a house on the beach, he had liked the rain a lot. Those mornings, the sand would be more solid and compact, making it easier to walk on, not to mention dozens of degrees cooler than it was on other summer days. After storms, the ocean was more beautiful with her raging white-tipped waves and deep blue-green color. He had liked to watch the lightning from the window of his room, marveling at every flash and every subsequent thunderclap, and he had loved falling asleep to the sounds of droplets smacking against the glass. It had comforted him to know that he could be inside, away from those harsh elements, a place where he could admire the sheer beauty of it all.
sharksBut that bedroom no longer existed. Along with the rest of his childhood home, it had burned to the ground. He had spent the previous night huddled under a large oak, freezing under his cloak, and nursing a weak fire. Arkham supposed he could have waited out the storm in his father's cabin, but he had not wanted his scent to linger, and he would have felt uneasy with the idea anyway without having spoken to the man first. Besides, anything that didn't kill him would only make him stronger, right? Though the clouds shifted around the sky slowly, unable to decide whether the sun should be allowed to shine, the coyote had hung his soaked clothing on the oak's branches anyway. It had been the first time since arriving that he'd allowed himself to shed the disguise, but he didn't really have much of a choice at this point. He could only hope that one of the few people that might recognize him didn't make their way there before everything dried.
sharksThe fire was a bit more healthy now that the rain had stopped, however temporarily, and the grey coyote sat next to it, mulling over things as usual and sharpening his knife with a rock. The belt containing all of his various other small weapons and tools lay across the log where he sat. He wondered if rabbits would be out so soon after a storm.
[/html]