And How He Waits
His ears perked and his head raised, looking out into the distance where the call came from. At first he didn’t know what to do, he simply watched the figure for a moment, observing. She was upwind so he had no way of knowing who she was, where she came from, or for that matter if she was a girl. It was risky, meeting a stranger in the middle of the night outside of the pack’s territory, but he was strong even though many wolves towered over him and even from a distance he could feel that would be the case once again.
He sighed heavily before raising his head and responding with a call of his own; a hollow deep bellow that climbed through the night air to the stars. Formalities done away with he skulked up the valley toward her, his waving long fur falling over his neck like a silk sheet. His fur was still covered in grainy dust from the floor of his den but he had managed to shake off a good deal of it on his way down the mountain.
He approached the girl, unsurprised to see that she, like so many others, towered over him. The long hairs between his shoulders raised cautiously as he caught the scent of another pack, although it wasn’t one he was familiar with, which he supposed at least ruled out The Great Brown Bastard’s. “Oy.” He greeted, his head leveled with his spine, ears turned outward in a cautious neutrality. She was pretty, maybe a little old, but still pretty, he wasn’t exactly a spry adolescent himself. He turned his bad eye away from her slightly, although that meant showing the ugly tear on his muzzle it was at least less jarring. He wasn’t exactly attractive, even before his apocalyptic fight with the mountain lion, he was gangly, all legs that ended in too-big paws, the fact that he had a face that looked like raw hamburger was just the final nail in the coffin.
“Wut brangs ye tae these parts?” He asked, hoping to start a conversation before she ran screaming for the hills. |
