01-17-2008, 06:34 AM
[html]
| I'm not injured, thanks. With that, priorities easily rearranged themselves into the appropriate order without a fraction of difficulty. Blood and wounds were difficult to sense when the weather was so harsh and the scent of the borders that of a pack, and of course they were difficult to see too, given the thickness of winter fur and the secretiveness of the snow. Thus, it had been wise to ask, though he noted vaguely that she was surprised by his concern. If Tamerlane had not asked after her health, though, it would not have been entirely anomalous for her to flop forward in the snow, unconscious or deceased. Now that she was deemed relatively healthy (at least by her own judgement), that possibility was more or less removed from the proceedings. The young, honey-coated stranger admitted ignorance in these events. To clue her in, Tamerlane replied harmlessly but honestly: you’ve entered a pack territory, which you should know if you have a sense of smell. You’ve failed to submit, which is absurd if you’re a wolf of any kind. And you’re surrounded by the aftermath of an avalanche, which you’ll know if you have eyes. I’m not injured, he answered her question, but I asked if you were, because to stand in the freezing cold with an injured stranger is not a situation that should be prolonged. In fact, he added, it shouldn't be prolonged whatever the situation — you've yet to tell me why you howled. |