One Lonely Beastie I Be

He looked between his raised leg at what was no doubt a wolf from the pack he had trespassed in and let out a merry “Top O’ th’ Marning tae ye sir!” He greeted with a slight slur, his eyes on the red male and all but dismissing the female.  He couldn’t really try and pass off that he was looking for the bandit Hewart Jass this time having been caught pissing in their river, which left him falling back on the carefully planned deception he had come up with before arriving; acting drunk. He lowered his leg slightly, teetering on his remaining three paws before lifting it again, and continuing to lift it until he tipped over and fell into the snow with a soft “plop”. He remained still for a moment before rocking himself from side to side like a turtle stuck on its back in the snow either attempting to either roll onto his paws or just wiggle around like a happy slug in the snow. He didn’t reek of alcohol like he had the morning after the festival when his paws were locked around a raccoon, but the scent of yeast and barely did roll faintly off of his fur from the swig of liquid courage he had convinced Kassander to give him.

He arched his back to look at the female his tongue lulling out of the side of his mouth and hanging over his muzzle in a dazed sort of grin, his tail smacking against the snow in a straight vertical line. If they didn’t think he was under some kind of influence they would hopefully believe that he hadn’t been fully aware of what he had been doing when he crossed into the territory.

This is talking