10-09-2008, 07:29 PM
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-had fun with this post.- wc430 In fact, he loved it, and that was putting it lightly. The ruffled hybrid had never been one for the snow and bite of winter, but the crisp smell of reddening autumn leaves as they took off on their yearly waltz on the western winds was all too familiar for the male. Being the nature lover that he was at heart, Jeffers had always had a slight flair for seeing the foliage each year--it meant the unbearable heat of summer was ending and the frost of winter was still deferred for a few more months, and that expanded amount of time between seasons he favored, just as he favored spring. The old brute hated winter, and seeing the trees budding and the world rising from its own frosty ashes back into life was a peculiarly overwhelming relief on his behalf, but I digress. Jefferson loved autumn, and no gimpy leg was going to cast that away. It was one thing admiring the canopies aflame from a single eye, but it was rare that the hybrid felt so unusually whimsical that it seemed nothing could crash down the day. On his little stroll, lonely and perfectly happy as such, he had to resist every goofy smile to himself that kept arising upon impulse. On the crisp autumn winds rose another scent--one almost repugnant and disgusting compared to the breeze of fluttering leaves. He paused and thought twice before raising snout to the sky; odd, the scent was definitely one he recognized, yet nothing of his pack. A brief glance from side to side concluded correctly--Jefferson was far into the heart of Phoenix Valley, and nowhere near the borders. Talons flexed and tore at the soil hardened from the nipping cold. A stranger was decided quickly; his speed, though limping only faster, picked up immediately as the scent was routed through the twirling winds. On most occasions, the male did not mind strangers and newcomers to the land, but this far into the valley? Hopefully the stranger was an acknowledged guest, but as the three-legged hybrid stood at the edge of one of the two twin lakes, he decided otherwise. The scent reeked of Iskata somehow--he hastily browsed his memories of the stories she'd shared with him--but there were far too many identities the grayscale hybrid could possess. He made quick conclusions and narrowed them down. A limp further, and the hybrid stood tall, scowl all too apparent and single eye focused and glowing with suspicion. "You reek of her," he growled lowly. "But you have no place on these lands." |