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the name is just me not being able to come up with anything better
The land was healing after the storm. Tharin wandered out past it to see how the rest of the lands were faring. Perhaps there was a herd of deer or goats on the nearby mountain that had taken refuge. Tharin thought they might have been scattered by the storm, but he still hoped to find a healthy herd. Something to show that they weren't entering the famine that he remembered from the arctic. Signs of smaller prey animals skittering across and playing comforted him some, the tension from his body easing up.
Tharin slowed as he approached a stream that sloped down the mountain. Bending his head he lapped gently at the cold water, feeling the chill from coming higher up. It was a good taste that refreshed his body. Sitting down Tharin stretched out, his tail wagging a little behind him. Things weren't as bad as it might have appeared. The storm had done damage, but it was nothing too large, and there were plenty of birds and squirrels out and about that he'd seen. Not a herd, but still something.
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Mayflower Kowl
I can't stand to fly, I'm not that naive..
Alabaster paws touched down on the damp earth, branches strewn about the area from the recent storm which had blasted through the area only days before. Amber eyes were narrowed slightly as the canine wandered about, floppy ears perking up as, once again, Mayflower clumsily stepped on a twig. With a sigh, she shook her long muzzled head before padding about in a close circle on all fours, watching the four-legged shadow that followed her about.
The rushing water of a nearby stream made Mayflower stop her odd prancing about. Turning her elegantly shaped head about, the Australian Shepherd headed off towards the noise, pausing some meters away from the water's edge. The bashful canine lowered her head at the sight of a wolf sitting near the edge of the water. Mayflower let out a quiet, fearful whine, circling about so that she was quite a distance away from the other canine. The blue merle splotched dog slipped slightly, though quickly regained her balance and bent down to lap at the cool water, droplets bouncing up and wetting the fur around her muzzle. Mayflower, who's attention remained on the wolf just in case he was one of the more violet sorts of canines she'd heard about, lifted her head and sat back on her tail-less haunches, staring across the narrow stream and letting a huff of air press past her rubbery lips, eyes narrowing slightly as a bird fluttered out of the gnarled branches of a tree.
ooc; you're table looks so cool :o
Word Count; ooo
template by revo. <3
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thanks  Marit made it
Tharin lifted his head at the sound of a fear stricken whine. The scent of fear was quickly entering the air, similar to that of prey. The oddest looking canine he'd ever seen stood across from him. This was even stranger than a coyote. For one thing, this odd looking creature didn't have a tail. It looked like it had been bit right off. Then the ears were flopped over, something that he'd never seen on anything other than a puppy. The scent assured him that he was facing an adult, but she was definitely not like anything he could have imagined. The strangeness of where he lived never ceased to amaze him.
He watched the sheep canine head further down away from him, ear swiveled forward in tight concentration. He was curious about her, watching as she lowered her head and lapped at the water. She acted so much like prey it was hard to not imagine that she was something he was supposed to eat. Only the closeness in scent to his own kind stopped him from reaching that conclusion. He stared right back at her as she settled down, eyes locked. What are you? Could she talk? Or would she just baa like a sheep?
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Mayflower Kowl
I can't stand to fly, I'm not that naive.
The canine jumped, hind paws landing before her fore paws on the ground. Hanches lowered, Mayflower squeezed herself together as though she was an accordian, her thick neck bending downwards to lower her head. "Uh, a d-dog," she said in a voice just above a whisper, forcing the words out. It took a lot of energy to muster up the courage to speak, thoug she'd finally done so.
"What's it to you?" she continued, growing somewhat more bold and retracting herself, paws placed awkwardly to either side of her slender body, covered with a thick coat of fur. Amber eyes, opened so wide they might have just popped right out of her skull and started rolling around, stared at the other canine, observing his tall ears and his somewhat stronger seeming build. Taking to though that he was probably much stronger than her and most likely a wolf - she'd seen these before - Mayflower backed up, left leg reaching back before her right, pausing after a few steps as she didn't want to seem too cowardly.
ooc; nice x3
Word Count; ooo
template by revo. <3
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OOC: ###
She moved exactly like prey, flinching at his voice. Tharin raised himself up as his tail began to sway. His eyes gleamed bright with anticipation, not yet moving on the hunt but measuring the one before him. She was acting rather curiously. The word that she spat out actually puzzled him. She looked different from Amy. Not that he had acquainted himself very well with the trader. They'd been too busy trying to kill each other. Besides, Amy looked like a wolf. This creature looked nothing like a wolf. Clearly there had to be a mistake. They could not both be dogs and yet have different ears and tails.
It did solve the dilemma of whether or not the creature before him was prey. Tharin had found that he didn't have the stomach for eating anything that talked to him. It was too strange to think about. You look funny. Tilting his head Tharin took a step forwards, ending up with his paws in the stream as he stared at her. You act like prey, though you don't smell like it. Shaking his head Tharin frowned. This had to be wrong. She had to be something else. What are you really?
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Oh goodness, I'm so sorry that I haven't gotten a reply in or anything!
Could the canine really not understand that they had the same blood, or something close to that? With a shake of her narrow-muzzled head, she scrunched her miniscule build together, sheepishly stepping backwards. "A dog," she stated, blinking amber optics up at the male wolf. "Can't you tell the difference between prey and fellow canines?" Mayflower spoke tentively, floppy ears pulled backwards as she spoke. A breath of air escaped past ivory tinted lips, though holding a more gray color. The Australian Shepherd held a position near sitting, her tailless haunches held only an inch or so above the ground.
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He watched the strange canine creature shake her narrow head. She really did remind him of a sheep. Her actions were so shy and withdrawn. She seemed super skittish, even though he wasn't going to hurt her. He had no reason to. He was just curious about what she could possibly be. He knew that animals other than canines could talk, though his experience was limited to an eagle and a cat. She had to be another one of those creatures. After all, she didn't have a tail, and her ears were flopped over.
You smell like a canine. You act like prey. Tharin took a step forwards, his paws slipping into the stream. The cold didn't bother him, rarely registering. He had a thick wolf coat after all. She was crouched low, almost looking like she was sitting. He knew it wasn't true however. She was too nervous to truly relax and sit down. Your ears are wrong for a dog. You don't have a tail. It couldn't be right. Canines had tails. This creature did not. Tharin's ear swung forward, his gaze as intense as before.
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A draft of air ruffled her silk-like fur as she stood staring in bewilderment, eyes wide, though with awe and not fear. Hadn't he seen a dog before? Or was this wolf just ignorant to reality? With another shake of her broad head, Mayflower turned her attention to the wolf with slight displeasure. "I'll have you know," she started, rallying up to scold the canine harshly for calling her prey and such, speaking in a voice above the volume she normally held in her timidness. "I am not prey, I don't have a tail because it is a feature in my breed," she continued, holding her head rather high and righting herself, as she had lacked proper posture, which seemed as though it might be why he thought of her as prey - her bashfulness and the shape of her ears and the lack of her spine extending into a tail. Perhaps tails seemed queer to Mayflower, as neither of her deceased parents nor her brother had had one. "My ears are flopped over because that is a characteristic most dogs have," she continued, enraged, but not furiously hating, as Mayflower did not hate - she only became angered slightly by things.
Relaxing, Mayflower sat back on her haunches, paws sinking into the dampened ground which had yet to clear up from the hurricane that'd blown over Nova Scotia and the fact that a stream ran by just feet from where she sat, glistening like clear snow lain across a backdrop of musty brown. "If you call me prey one more time .. well I'll .." She trailed off, unable to think of a threat that would not break her streak of friendliness and kindred spirit towards others. An exaggerated sigh pushed past her lips and she couldn't help but shake her head once more, a think that she now thought she did much too often now.
"Matter of fact, I'm not too different in size and shape than you," she continued in a more calm voice, as Mayflower had the gift of quickly calming her own enraged attitude. Still sitting, she harshly gazed forwards, examining the wolf from head to toe, wondering if he really was a wolf, and not some hybrid cat with a canine appearance and personality. Seemed perfectly realistic .. or not. He obviously was a wolf and Mayflower was probably just thinking up reasons to think this individual was more strange than he seemed .. yes, that was perfectly plausible.
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Her eyes grew wide, this time taking a stance instead of continuing to back up. Tharin continued to watch with interest as she raised her voice, almost rallying herself. Perhaps she was truly just a nervous creature. The mention of not having a tail because of breed was a bit odd, as it was a concept he didn't really grasp, but her insistence on not being prey was pretty strong. Flopped ears is a dog trait? So all dogs were supposed to have ears that fell over like that?
She failed to follow up on the threat, but the message was clear. She was unhappy with what he was calling her. Nodding his head in contentment he stayed where he was. Alright, not prey. He could admit that. He still found her very strange. Her next words sent him to twist his head, looking at his own body. I suppose we are. Are all dogs supposed to look like you? He turned back, staring at the female again.
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