[html] The ground had grown rocky, but Fischer didn't mind. It was a change of scenery from the bleak, naked trees in the woods he had passed through. His fur was finally free of blood, after he had stopped at a creek to scrub it off, but he still felt foul. His arm and legs still hurt, he was beginning to think it was not because he had been turned into a werewolf, but because he had injured himself. He was not sure. He had no idea how any of this worked.
He slowed to a stop between two rocky shelfs, and eased himself into a sitting position on the lichen that grew there. The sun was sinking slowly, casting an eery light over the shale around him. Within moments, he was thrown into shadows. There was little light in the crevice, but he could see that there were sticks and blackened spots on the ground, and that the earth was worn in places. Fischer was slightly alarmed, wondering if perhaps a group of slave-traders used the same crevice to set up camp. It wasn't deep enough to hide a wagon and horse, though.
Nerves alight, Fischer shuffled backwards under an overhang and pulled his knees to his chest, ignoring the searing pain up his hip. It would be a long, dark night. [/html]
Chronologically after when Fischer meets Amy. I'm not sure how much longer, though. D'oh =(
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Word Count ( 0.366 ) By Noelle! I apologize for the wait. >.<
His lips were drawn in a thin line. His dark brown cloak, hooded with pale reindeer fur along the inside, was wrapped around his body. A particular stain across his left shoulder was evident even with the sun now casting across the sun and sinking until tomorrow. His light blue eyes were narrowed, glancing here and there at every movement as his ears twitched with them under his cloak. Long, black strands of hair curled around his face, noticeably, it stuck out more so on right. Underneath his cloak and carried over his non-injured shoulder was a brown bag, inside held his dagger. Of course, the man was cautious, overly so now that he had drifted away from the pack enough that he did not make it back before sunset. He had been… distracted. Out within Drifter Bay, there was a particular place which flowers typically grow. It was frosted now, due to the winter season, but he couldn’t help wonder what it would look like at the correct time.
With each breath visible in the air before him, he strained his injured leg, moving faster now. He wished to make it home as soon as possible. Night brought many troubles. Had he been uninjured, he wouldn’t be in such a rush, but with injury – especially to his dominant left shoulder – he was harmless and could not defend himself well enough to go unscarred. He slowed, eying the soft dustings of snow here and there before once more, his pace quickened. The limp and uneven steps were beginning to become quite noticeable, even at the sound of it. Wolfgang could not be light-footed like a shadow elegantly stalking through the trees at the moment.
The hybrid spied an overhang, slowing in pace simply to make sure no other beings were around. Those spots were popular in his former Kingdom. His eyes narrowed, and he froze still at the sight of a man, sitting with his knees pulled to his chest. “Cold?” His voice unchanging from the typical emotionless tone, he rose it enough for the man to hopefully hear. Should he react with hostility, Wolfgang would take his leave, if he should not… he would approach.
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[html] Fischer listened to the quiet sounds of nature. Most insects were dead or hibernating now, but there was a surprising amount of birdcall, in such a treeless area. Mostly the harsh cries of gulls coming from the coast, occasionally the caw of a crow or magpie. He heard no small mammals, though, nothing which he could hunt and eat, though he was growing hungry.
Then he heard rocks shifting, and footsteps, heavy and labouring. There were not enough footsteps for it to be a wolf. His heart stilled, and when a two-legged werewolf came into view, it galloped off again without him, stealing his breath away. The were wore a cape and carried a bag. The traders who had captured him often wore bits of leather armour and carried knives and polearms, but they did not wear capes. He tried not to panic. Terra had indicated that there were many more weres, that he was not a monster.
It was a hard idea to reconcile.
"Cold?" came the voice, and Fischer was surprised to find he was so close, where the crevice became one with the flat ground again. He wasn't sure if it was a statement, or a question. He swallowed hard. The canine looked imposing in his cape, draped over his shoulders and be-furred, it gave the impression that he was larger than he actually was.
"I was, but I'm out of the wind in here," he replied, trying to keep his nerves from jangling together like bones. [/html]
Not a problem at all. I'm basically writing posts between remembering when to clean puppies (All the damn time) and trying to find a job =)
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