04-13-2009, 07:14 PM
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
OOC: Sorry for the delay in getting this up! 300+
The grey wolf had gone near mad with worry. It seemed that the longer the pups were missing the less sleep he could get. No matter what he tried, he would end up with the same dreams: of him and Mew, frantically searching for their own children, their howls of desperation lost in the cold fog. He would wake up, his whole body shivering beside that of his beloved, his heart racing wildly in his chest. The days grew longer and longer and even the Library proved a poor solace. He could no longer find the strength to carry the many books around. Neither could he simply ignore the mess he made, the haphazard piles in the corners. A few times he had thought of enlisting Alexey's help, but even that meant he would have to spend too much energy. Much more than he had left.
For once, Lubomir left the packlands with another aim in mind. He could not bear to search for the pups again, only to come back with empty hands. So with a heavy heart he set out through the forest, his mind a myriad of possibilities. What if they were all dead? What if they never came back? What then? Without a specific purpose in mind, he still found himself wandering towards Inferni lands and it spoke wonders about his state of mind that he could not even muster the courage to sneer at the coyote lands. Instead, he spotted a cabin nearby, a derelict old thing that he had never noticed before. Would puppies hide in haunted places? Lubomir walked towards it with a heavy heart and pushed open the door with his nose. The whole place stank of mildew and rot, with not living creature for miles.
He noticed some old crates in a corner, but those did not smell of Dahlia either. They stank, instead, of rum, something he had drank once in the Old Country at a summer fest. Sitting down, the old grey wolf let out a low keening sound that bespoke his sadness and grief.
The grey wolf had gone near mad with worry. It seemed that the longer the pups were missing the less sleep he could get. No matter what he tried, he would end up with the same dreams: of him and Mew, frantically searching for their own children, their howls of desperation lost in the cold fog. He would wake up, his whole body shivering beside that of his beloved, his heart racing wildly in his chest. The days grew longer and longer and even the Library proved a poor solace. He could no longer find the strength to carry the many books around. Neither could he simply ignore the mess he made, the haphazard piles in the corners. A few times he had thought of enlisting Alexey's help, but even that meant he would have to spend too much energy. Much more than he had left.
For once, Lubomir left the packlands with another aim in mind. He could not bear to search for the pups again, only to come back with empty hands. So with a heavy heart he set out through the forest, his mind a myriad of possibilities. What if they were all dead? What if they never came back? What then? Without a specific purpose in mind, he still found himself wandering towards Inferni lands and it spoke wonders about his state of mind that he could not even muster the courage to sneer at the coyote lands. Instead, he spotted a cabin nearby, a derelict old thing that he had never noticed before. Would puppies hide in haunted places? Lubomir walked towards it with a heavy heart and pushed open the door with his nose. The whole place stank of mildew and rot, with not living creature for miles.
He noticed some old crates in a corner, but those did not smell of Dahlia either. They stank, instead, of rum, something he had drank once in the Old Country at a summer fest. Sitting down, the old grey wolf let out a low keening sound that bespoke his sadness and grief.