Sounding the Seventh Trumpet
06-23-2013, 12:13 PM
Oh and all those things you dreamed of the visions that you saw Well the time is drawing near now, It's yours to claim it all: ~*~ Cross was developing into a bit of an introvert. He preferred to spend only a portion of his time with his siblings and cousins - most of it, he spent exploring the great realm of Glaciem. Now that he was of a weaning age, he was allowed out with a companion or babysitter to watch hunts and hear stories and learn the scents of his home. But Cross, with his sublte, observant emerald eyes, and quiet black paws, did far more exploring than any of his family knew. Already he'd made lots of trips out on his own, through the snows of his territory. His mother, perhaps, guessed as much, but she could only stop him when she caught it. The wanderlust was something in his blood. On every branch of his family tree, hung a wolf who'd put thousands of miles under their belt. Him? Oh he was just getting an early start. Despite all that he'd seen and learned of, however, he still had his puppish pronunciation of things. Perhaps it was because he didn't give it enough practice. Oh well. Can't have it all. And so it was that when he called out, the voice he sounded was a young and tender one, that rather worked against it's attempt at a stern edge. "Serrrraaaa!" That was her name right? She was the new girl, Oxia's niece, that he'd been told about. But she'd only just been found and rescued. What in the world could she be doing out here? He'd caught onto her scent during one of his explorations, and had just had to follow it. Though he didn't always seek out the company of other wolves, there was some instinct within him, that made him protective towards his family and his packmates. He'd been told watered-down versions of the many adventures that were he was the legacy of. He knew (or at least, thought he knew) of all the dangers that were out there beyond the pack's den, and especially beyond the boundaries of Glaciem. She might've been in danger! But when Cross came campering into the clearing of the pine woods, he found her exchanging words with another wolf. "Sera! What is you doing alla way out here? You coulda been deaded." It was quite a sight to see the little white fluff ball mouthing off to a wolf who was twice his age, but he was large for his six months, and he didn't see anything odd about it. She was new to the pack and he was trying to watch out for her. Just imagine the trouble she could get into if someone found out she was missing! (Of course he never though about the trouble he could be in) With a narrow, green gaze the weanling turned round on the stranger. His bush of a tail gave a flick, and his ears wagged back and forth as he tried to make up his mind on this stranger. He looked him up and down the way he'd seen his Uncle Gargie do to newcomers, but he didn't know what he was looking for. How did someone tell if another wolf was a good guy or bad guy. Finally the pup just out and asked what was on his mind: "Are you a serial killer?" Obviously he'd had a colorful childhood. Lift your spirit, set it free One day you'll walk tall with pride Son of Man a man in time You'll be |