(367) Open for anyone, now; will likely foredate this to be more recent if anyone nabs it. 
Vesper is by me!
Blue stretched overhead for miles and miles, uninterrupted by clouds; there wasn't even a single white wisp in the sky today. The only objects that served to make the firmament interesting were the sun, a passing goose, and the outline of the looming mansion. Not for the first time, passing underneath it, Vesper wondered what it would be like to live within -- to know and rely on this structure built by humans so very long ago. And, as always, her hackles rose until she remembered the warmth of the village buildings she'd hunted in.
Surely the lower animals, like the rabbits who dozed in the garden, did not question the building and only viewed it as they might a tree, or a weird rock. She knew she must have, before anyone explained to her what all the cars and buildings and other artifacts meant. And it was probably simpler that way.
It's just a building, Vesper chastised herself. She wasn't used to being philosophic (if her clumsy attempts at exploring the mysterious could be called that), and it bothered her that she had so much free time she could. It was a sign that she ought to patrol, or maybe man up and explore the place she was staring so intently at.
Her will failed her, and the coywolf only sighed and padded away from the great gates. Her paws drumming a four-beat rhythm on the leaf-litter of the woods, she followed her usual path to the border. She'd made her tracks there often enough that she fancied she wore through the earth, which was perfectly possible after a couple of years here. Patrolling was what she defaulted to when she was troubled or simply had nothing to do.
Something that was once bright green and fuzzy caught her eye. She leaped toward the bushes, landing almost on top of the raggedy, soil-colored thing; it rolled out from underneath her paw, and she glanced down at it in puzzlement. Shrugging to herself, she ducked down and grabbed the ancient tennis ball in her mouth, her tongue recoiling from its taste, and moseyed back down the trail. Maybe one of Helotes' kids would like the old thing.
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