The Sound of a Heartbeat

[Raphael Salvage]

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Hope I did this right ^_^


Word Count: 604


Desired Profession Path: Medicine


NPC's: None

The white-furred wolfdog advanced across the grassy plain, softly inhaling the earth scent of the cool, morning air. The chilly breeze ruffled the grasses around him, lifting his long fur and ruffling his hair. Somewhere far off across the plain behind him an elk bulged, and he stopped for a moment letting his eyes and ears wandering in the direction of the sound as he readjusted the small messenger bag over his shoulder. It held little contents, only his thin cloak and scarce remains of last night’s supper. His other hand rested on his belt. A simple dagger swung from it along with a leaf wrapped around smoldering coal salvaged from his last fire. He found starting fire and pain. He simply did not have the patience to sit there and concentrate for that long and taking a small piece of the fire each time was an easy way to jump start the process.




Raphael Salvage had heard much of this ‘land of the east’ from his mother, but he had yet to conclude whether or not the claims proved to be true. Once when he was a small pup, he believed his mother’s tells like a fairytale, dreaming of one day traveling to that mystical place. He had grown a lot since then, and now knew that no magical land existed near the sea where the sun raised. Still, if this land held any hint of the promises his mother whispered in his ear then he would be pleased to remain here until he found his father at least. According the smallish group of nomads he ran into only a few days ago, over this plain and just south of the western bay was the pack lands of Aniwaya. A peaceful pack that spent it’s days tending to the crops or animals, just the kind of place he thought he might enjoy.




He continued on, not being able to stay still long with a task in front of him, his composure calm and collective even though he could feel his excitement increasing in the pit of his stomach. He tried to ignore his distaste of the heat, even as slight as it was, smoothing down his ruffled hair and wishing for a moment he hadn’t worn is dark jeans. He often made a habit of wearing one of his only clothing items even when he was expecting a heat filled day, and it didn’t help that is long fur was made to keep heat in, not out. Maybe he’d cut it once he got settled in.




Eventually trees began sprouting among the grass until he found himself no longer in a plain, but a thin autumn forest littered with leaves of reds and golds and fallen nuts. He silently welcomed the shade and what relief it brought from the heat, but a scent tickled his nose and ended his relief early. He paused midstep and raised his ginger tinted nose into the air conforming his suspension. Under the smell of the freshly decaying leaves and morning dew hinted a more distinct odor, one that could only be the collective scent of wolves. Though the distinct scents themselves he did not recognize, it wasn’t hard to guess that this was the start of the pack he was looking for. He proceeded in taking a few steps forward, up to where the scent surged the strongest. He did not pause for a moment, did not give himself a moment to overthink his actions coming here, instead he raised his white head, his snout pointing towards the heavens and let out a deep, loud, melodic howl.

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