Manifest Destiny (old Glaciems)
07-05-2013, 04:54 AM
Masqurading as a man with a reason My charade is the Event of the season I hear the voices when I'm dreaming I can hear them say: ~*~ To her dip of the head, he gave one of his own, outwardly quite calm and blank, but inwardly more pleased to see one of his own than he cared to admit. "Miss Eria. It is good to see you." And in return to her question he shrugged his great black shoulders and swung his yellow gaze about. "It certainly appears so," he rumbled gruffly. Unfortunately he could give precious little else by way of answer. "Seems the gods are finding entertainment in causing chaos among the packs." Again he gave the tiniest of shrugs. It didn't bother him. They'd withstood this challenge. They'd withstand the next. The ice water was washed from his face however, when a little black and white cannon ball came hurtling out of the spring brush and shot into him, tail wagging and paws wiggling. For a moment a smile spread across the Chief's face, going almost from ear to earr. "Orica!" he roared, and caught the little girl up by hr scruff, tossing her into the air, and letting her land sprawling on his face. Oops, he'd forgotten he was still recovering. This probably hadn't been good for his neck. He didn't show anything like pain though, he just placed the girl back down and rumbled a low chuckling sound to himself. Orica was just a forerunner of the main body of wolves heading his way. Midnight was here too now. And Gargoyle returned her generous bow with a nod. She was one of his most courageous braves and he was honored by her loyalty. There were so many faces of his packmates that he longed to see, and yet each one gave him a new sense of honor that they had come. Her words were true enough. Glaciems in Tortuga? He never would've thought he'd see the day. "Luck might have been against me in the challenge, but so long as I am alive, it is my job to give my family a home they can feel comfortable in. Granted, it may take a bit of time to get used to, but it has the slopes we love, the peaks, the caves, the snow." This was one of the elder mountains, the sort that a wolf could travel for days upon and still not come back to where where they'd started. Prey was plentiful enough, too. "And," he added quietly after a moment, "To be honest I could care less about where I tread my paws, just so long as I don't have to walk alone." Carry on my Wayward Son There'll be peace when you are done Lay your weary head to rest Don't you Cry No More |
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