Weaving a story of pity

[Dawali Amara]

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Word Count: 355 Two strong legs carried the male through the scenery, his thoughts giving him rest this night - he had a purpose with this particular night-walk. Most every night he let his legs move him at random while his mind worked around subjects that were his and his only, but tonight his stride had a wholly different character. Dawali was headed for the central fire, coming from the south - he'd been collecting smaller pieces of a certain type of wood, and needed better light and the test of fire to check if they were usable at all. Of course, he would never use the central fire for any such thing, as it was a ceremonial and spiritually holy place, although he would light his torch there, and carry it home to his hut. Lighting torches was acceptable, as he should know, being a medicine man of profession. In half an hour he had traversed the distance, and soon a glaring torch was in his hands as he turned his nose in yet another direction, heading for his den. The heat was nice to his furs, for even though spring had come it could still easily be chilly in the night air, and Dawali liked it best when it was mild. His coat was thin, thinner than those of his gray cousins, and thus he felt most at ease in warmer environments. His feet moved purposefully and rapidly, one in front of the other, as his eyes keenly studied the ground for obstacles. The red wolf male was oblivious to the heavy smell of another male - all his energy was focused on getting to his destination as quickly as possible. After all, he'd spent hours down south today, traveled far, and he was keen to set his bottom down onto any seating at all to finish the job. The wood would need to be inspected, but the past few years he hadn't been mistaken, and did not expect to be so today. Thus reaching the den meant reaching sleep, and whilst he wasn't exhausted, he did welcome the warm embrace of his sleeping furs.

Awesome sexy table and avatar by Kat! [/html]