White Line Fever

*Oleander I* · (This post was last modified: 02-02-2017, 12:35 PM by Oleander I.)

The man eagerly nodded his head at the mention of spring, he could start to once again gather items to start a garden somewhere. He had taken all he could from the range, but they had died so quickly that he feared the seeds would be hollow. Only time could tell, he supposed. But it was the prey returning that he was really excited for. His ribs were starting to show and rodents were not enough to keep both canines going. Hopefully the changing of seasons was just around the corner. "Spero, I hope. Has the season been genus, kind to you?" He asked softly, hoping that with her childred it would be okay. He still didn't feel comfortable asking her outright, maybe she just got fat? The swelling under her would say otherwise, but he wasn't that familiar with the after effects of birth. Licking at his lips, he tried not to stare as he offered her an awkward smile. Sometimes he really did feel stupid. He couldn't help asking though, finally letting the question leave him. If he had just asked if she was a mother and she ended up being fat, he would feel like a fool.

The smile on her face set him at ease, a small sigh quietly slipping out. Good, he had been right. He had thought so with the scent on her pelt, but he didn't want to be wrong and have just insulted her. His ears perked up as she spoke of them, his jaw hanging slightly slack when she said she had had three boys and two girls. Growing silent for a moment, he tried to imagine what it was like to have that many pups dependent on him. It was a large litter for sure, not unheard of but very big to say the least. "Quinque, five puppies? Oh my, you have been very busy then! You are a fortem, brave woman." Oleander said with a great big sweeping nod of his head. He couldn't imagine having five children to look after. He didn't feel right asking if the sire was involved, but at least she was in a pack and they could help her if she was alone. That would be an awful lot to do by herself! He didn't have too much experience with whelps, but he would like to think that at some point he would settle down and have some. Hopefully not five.

When Cedar returned with the birds and he sought silent permission from Faite, he didn't hesitate any longer and dug in. He was forever trying to think on if he was being rude or not, but the growling in his tummy would not be silent for much longer. Licking at his lips when he was done, he hoped that Cedar ha not insulted her for being to blunt. Sometimes he could just hit the jackal on the head, but he had to admit that he was curious as well. When they had last met she had been in her brothers pack, if he remembered correctly. Why would she leave her family to join another? But when he answered him, it all made sense. She had the call of a leader then, eh? He could see the strong quality in her from the beginnings, and he smiled at her with a touch of fondness. It wasn't often that he became close to other wolves given his strange behaviors, but he did feel proud of the russet faced woman. "Tibi bonum est, good for you!" His tail wagged a few times behind him as he brushed the bones and feathers to the side, his head falling towards his left. "What is it called, quid nomine, what name?"

"SPEAK" -- "CEDAR SPEAKS" -- "SPEAK LATIN"

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White Line Fever

Oleander I