11-18-2009, 11:55 PM
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Snake had never taken a life, but there was still a long life ahead of him to live. Personally, he had no qualms with it. He was not an aggressive creature, and would only resort to fighting if it was in defense of himself or of a pack that he stood for. Of course, this was all being said on behalf of a creature whose rage, passion, and sorrow grew as slowly as the glaciers crept. One might worry what would happen when it finally became too much for him—would he simply snap, or would it release like a safety valve on a hot water heater? He didn’t know, and, since rage was such a foreign concept to him, he probably wouldn’t any time soon.
The young coyote glanced up fleetingly to the leaders face, seeing the scar glint beneath the dark fur of his muzzle. Snake wondered briefly what had caused it, but he daren’t ask. He personally hated explaining the origin of his own scar (when asked, he would reply “it was a mistake” vaguely, or something of that sort), and part of him assumed that Gabriel felt the same way. After a short and pensive moment, the coyote’s head dipped and he replied, “Thank you for the advice, Gabriel.” He stood, retreating a step from the finished meal and continuing, “I’m glad to have met you, and I hope that I can prove useful to you in the future.” Though his voice never fluctuated in its flat tone, he was genuine.
Snake had never taken a life, but there was still a long life ahead of him to live. Personally, he had no qualms with it. He was not an aggressive creature, and would only resort to fighting if it was in defense of himself or of a pack that he stood for. Of course, this was all being said on behalf of a creature whose rage, passion, and sorrow grew as slowly as the glaciers crept. One might worry what would happen when it finally became too much for him—would he simply snap, or would it release like a safety valve on a hot water heater? He didn’t know, and, since rage was such a foreign concept to him, he probably wouldn’t any time soon.
The young coyote glanced up fleetingly to the leaders face, seeing the scar glint beneath the dark fur of his muzzle. Snake wondered briefly what had caused it, but he daren’t ask. He personally hated explaining the origin of his own scar (when asked, he would reply “it was a mistake” vaguely, or something of that sort), and part of him assumed that Gabriel felt the same way. After a short and pensive moment, the coyote’s head dipped and he replied, “Thank you for the advice, Gabriel.” He stood, retreating a step from the finished meal and continuing, “I’m glad to have met you, and I hope that I can prove useful to you in the future.” Though his voice never fluctuated in its flat tone, he was genuine.
table credit goes to jacoby
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