Mid-day run
06-17-2013, 12:25 PM
Capir thought he saw the dark wolf's fur bristle along his spine, but the stranger calmed so quickly that Capir wasn't sure if he had just imagined it or not. The stranger, now calm and cordial, nodded a polite greeting to him, and Capir became aware that he was sizing him up. He instinctively did the same, noting the bulkier shape of the younger wolf. "Do you, by any chance, want to help me train for an impending fight?" the stranger asked. Capir raised his gaze to the stranger's face to acknowledge that he was listening. "I have to fight a 700 pound siberian tiger-b***." A few moments of silence passed as Capir stared blankly at the stranger, not quite sure he should believe that he had really heard what he thought he'd heard. The stranger didn't appear to be mentally impaired in any way. His eyes, bright as a sunlit leaf, were clear and focused, and his facial expression and body language was calm and steady. Yet his words didn't add up in Capir's head. Capir's brows slowly descended on his forehead as he tried to wrap his mind around the stranger's statement. "A . . . tiger," he started neutrally, trying not to sound too skeptical. "Are you by any chance using some sort of metaphor, or do you mean a literal . . . tiger?" Capir's smoking brain cells silently begged the stranger to say that he didn't mean an actual tiger, but the blunt conviction in the stranger's voice convinced Capir that, for all his wishing, he would not. |
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