530 8D
Draugr is by me!
The past three days were filled with tingling excitement for Draugr, who paced the borders perhaps a little too frequently in her awaiting of Null. She hadn't told anyone, for she was afraid of spoiling the surprise -- or looking a fool, if it happened Salvia found Null unfit for the pack. She did not think the latter would occur -- or at least, she desperately hoped it would not. Some of the others seemed to have noticed her extra pacing of the borders; Miqui in particular had gone so far as to smirk and make a quip toward her.
Draugr hadn't really thought it a challenge to her rank or an insult, but she had demanded his apology anyway, remembering the surliness with which he'd treated her on their southerly trek to AniWaya those many months ago. Draugr was not fearful of losing her position, but she assumed others operated as she did: they would act swiftly to capitalize on weakness, and Miqui was no exception. Her chastisement hadn't been at all brutal, though, for his face had fallen and he'd offered the sincerest apology she'd ever heard of him or anyone else.
That perplexed her a fair bit, and she was ruminating over it while tending to the garden. There were always little green sprouts to pull; the indomitable weeds threatened their tiny piece of agriculture on a daily, if not hourly, basis. She engaged the duties of her rank absently, counting plants and taking stock. She'd passed through the cultivated and neat rows to the northern patch of lemon balm, the sweet-sour scent thick on the air, when the howl echoed through the territory. The dark-hued wolfdog stood up straight as an arrow and pricked doggish ears to listen. It had been some time since anyone howled at their borders -- Salsola did not entertain visitors, after all -- and she was sure it was Null.
As she took off toward the source of the sound with long strides, graceful in even her two-legged form, her certainty wavered. Perhaps it was just a trader, or perhaps some other come to beckon the kingdom for acceptance. What if she wasn't the first greeter? She should have been watching the borders, not fiddling with the garden. This made her run all the harder, jewelry clinking madly as she went. By the time she drew past the thickest part of the great forest, the wolfdog slowed to a trot and finally a walk. She was panting lightly, and wanted to catch her breath before appearing on the borders.
The scent that entered her nose was a familiar one, and all her excitement returned. The familiar form was standing in wait at the borders, her pose already excellent for a Salsolian applicant. Null, she said, greeting the woman with a solemn nod of the head. There was a small smile offered to the woman, though it was almost furtive in nature -- as if Draugr suspected there were other eyes on the border. It would not have surprised her; she was not the only canine to attend to patrol seriously. I'm glad you came.
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