Shelter
06-24-2013, 12:31 PM
Masqurading as a man with a Reason my Charade is the Event of the Season though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man though my mind could think, I still was a mad man I hear the voices when I'm dreaming I can hear them say: ~*~ Gargoyle made his way through the winds. They'd come on rather suddenly, but that was no surprise to the mountain wolves. Gargoyle had been out trying to catch the scent of some prey near the southern borders, when the storm kicked in. Not that he was having any luck today anyway. Experienced Glaciems knew the score. They could withstand alot, but white outs? Those were deadly. Best to find shelter and stay hunkered down til it passed over - which could be ten minutes or ten hours. The wait was worth it though. Gargoyle ahd hard tell of perfectly good trackers walking straight over a cliff during storms like these. The Chief knew his territory like the pads of paw, and he was aware of little crevice of cave not too far away. The storm had reached it's full potenial by the time his grey shadow lingered at the gap of stone. But as soon as he ducked his head in, he was greeted by the sight of other wolves. Apparently this cranny was already full. "Just my luck," he rumbled, and then he did a double take. "Mercianne, who's this?" The cadence of his voice never changed, but his ears tilted back a hair. The last time a strange male had been on their boards Gargoyle had had his teeth around his throat. That one had been white too. So who was this one? Sure, he was in a pack member's company and that gave him some level of safety, but frankly Glaciem's borders had attracted too many sickos lately, the Chief wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He wanted to know who this male was and what he was doing. If he was a friendly, wonder. If not, or if he seemed to be threatening Merci in anyway, well then it was finally Gargoyle's lucky day. He hadn't gotten to rip off a slab of wolf hide in a while. Carry on my Wayward Son There'll be peace when you are done |