… he’s a dork!
He moved with a light trot, his paws hardly touching the ground as he moved. Light bones and thin body carried the male over hills and through forests, while golden eyes took in everything that stood around him. As inconsiderate as he could be, the male was a master of his surroundings. Able to take in the scenery and reproduce it with no effort, it was a talent that he hadn’t yet truly tapped into. It was just something he did, neither considering it something worth developing, or something that had any true use.
The tawny male seemed to have been walking forever, and having only met one other wolf his was becoming discouraged. It was an easy thing, and even made him stop in his tracks and retake the steps he had just left. No nothing, his head shook with frustration. They bubbled in his chest and threatened to cause an explosion, the young boy found it hard to think and his head clouded. Sitting in the dirt he looked though the thin tree line, eyes burning a hole in the landscape. To often he felt the control slip through his fingers, making it hard to hold onto a single string of thoughts.
Finding the mind to get back to his paws, the ragged lean beast looked for something to take his anger out on. A few steps brought him to a large stick. Leading with the soot hued foot, Heath pawed it, noticing that it was old and brittle. Thin jaws took it in his mouth, and with a long winding swing he hit it against the nearest tree. Releasing it at the last moment he watched as it fit the large trunk, snapping it in half with a satisfying crack.