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dancing on the killing floor
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[html] | http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v107/ ... settop.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top:131px;"> | http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v107/ ... bottom.jpg); background-color:#000000; background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top:0px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; padding-bottom:179px;"> Sorry for the delay D:
Hemming felt useless and guilty, and as the pup stared at her paws he looked, helpless, to the horizon. The wolf knew the word that she spoke now, but it wasn't just from reading old operas - he had no clue of their pronunciation, anyway - but also that he had spoken to an Italian wolf many months ago. She had taught him a little of the language, but he didn't remember much of it. There was a chance that the girl would find his absolute lack of proficiency amusing, but also a chance she would find it insulting and useless. Given that he didn't want to propel her any further into the misery that was being without some of her family, he wouldn't risk it.
He was unsure, then, what he should do. A thought came to him almost within an instant after he had discarded his plan to attempt the girl's language (or, at least, one of them). Perhaps it would help to play the detective. Hemming realized that he knew very little of these pups' story, and with a little knowledge he could be more helpful when they finally did set out to find her papa. "Emma, you followed your papa's scent here? How far have you come?" He hoped the slight interrogation wouldn't be upsetting, and peered at the girl with soft eyes.
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Sie made this! ♥[/html]
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