White Line Fever

*Sabine* · 11-01-2015, 06:38 PM

It felt like it was going to be a nasty day. The air was damp and cold, and not at all like the last time she graced this terra. The last time she'd come here the very ground beneath her paws had radiated warmth. The air had been been bone dry, and the summit hot. It amazed her how wildly the seasons varied here. Back home the changing of the seasons was a slow process. Nothing moved quickly and the changes weren't so drastic.

Sabine was headed for the top for no good reason; she just wanted to; maybe to feel how the change in seasons was treating the lava flows. Her pace was lackadaisical, each step taken with a loose and predatory confidence that would make a lion jealous. The light drizzle that caused her fur to droop did little to dampen her regal bearing. As far as she knew there was no one to show off to, no audience to impress, but not for one second did she consider giving in to the miserable morning and slouching her way up to the summit.

A scent on the breeze slowed her ascension. Sabine's head dropped further and brought her nose inches from the ground. Working slowly from side to side she snuffed at the leaf litter in search of the scent that had come her way. There was someone in these woods, that much she knew, but where? There. Her head rose, chin tucking as her neck arched and she regained her regal posture. Sabine's ears pricked forward as she turned to face in the direction of the stranger. She was unsure of the exact distance between them, but was confident that her voice could overcome it with ease. "Tell me, stranger," she simpered, "do you know how much farther it is to the top?"

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