Dreams Are Made Winding Through My Head

N/A · 04-11-2013, 11:38 AM

As a young boy Fenrir had failed to truly explore the land of Alacritia. When he'd first traveled to the land, long before the rest of the packs had migrated here, he had headed straight to the south. There he had found a pack and had joined them. He'd been one at the time. Now he was four come autumn, and yet he still had yet to explore any place but his old homeland. Sadly it had been wiped out by a hurricane. Now there was nothing left but a small sandbar.

He had come to the conclusion that it was time to get to know the territories of the land he lived on. He figured it would be beneficial for him in the future. Getting to visit some of the packs wasn't such a bad idea either but that would have to wait for another day.

He wasn't that far away from where his old pack had been. He hadn't managed to travel that much farther north when he came upon the rugged old place. It was in shambles. All that could be seen of the old house was the foundation. The crops still grew but they were wild and had lost any of the formality they had once retained. It was considered rabbit food to Fenrir, but regardless is was intriguing.

What captured his attention the most was the foundation of the farm house and the storm cellar that still remained. The young man wandered to the place and stuck his head to the ground as he began to investigate. There really wasn't much left to the place. Most things were well on their way to completely decomposing and the only things he could really find were a few nests here and there or mice scurrying around.

He began to walk within the ruins, head still to the ground, as he observed the place. Creatures used to live here before. They were creatures he had never seen before nor did he ever want to see. Regardless, the structures they made were incredible, but hardly held the grandeur that dens held. Wolf dens, if made properly, were more durable and stable and didn't decompose over time. Not like this at least. Then there were other places far more magnificent than this. Waterfalls, mountains, lush valleys. All were so much more compared to the lump of garbage left behind.

Red and green orbs traveled upwards and ears pricked forward as he listened to his surroundings. He was rather weary of others and didn't appreciate being sneaked up on, so it had become a habit of his to periodically to check his surroundings. All was silent save for a few animals in the distance and birds flying overhead. A soft summer breeze even ruffled his fir slightly, but he was alone. Content with that fact his head lowered once more to the ground as he began to explore a bit more.

Speech,

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