Tiptoe Through the Window

ORWYND
everyone who isn't me is an enemy

Paradise was the curious wolf’s name. A strange title for a beautiful - albeit unusual - looking girl. The wolf rolled his shoulders and set to task differentiating sour scents from fresh, painstakingly aware of the approaching female. “The South, eh, fire wolf? Far from home.” He quipped, admiring the way her intricately marked fur accentuated her femininity. The orange and black streaks reminded him of wildfire and as her muscles moved under her pelt, those flames danced. “I’m just a lonely bachelor knockin’ about in the wild.” The laugh that came forth was genuine. “Traveling the coast, you see. I hear the waters run warm further South. That’s my destination. I have plans to see all that I can along the way.” While Orwynd did not dislike the cold entirely, he was not at all fond of it. The idea of year-round warmth sounded rather appealing to the man. Others would surely flock there to escape the bite of winter, both prey, and hunter alike.

Orwynd was not at all ashamed about how he flexed the muscles in his back in a display of masculinity as he took the lead on their hunt. “And where would my lady's travels end, hm? Have you a destination?” He asked as they traveled through the dainty maze of pine. Every so often Orwynd would repeat the process of rubbing his fur into the green bristles, making it known that is was his scent that was mingled with the sweetness of the she-wolf’s. The wolf was almost so entranced by the delectable smell of his newfound companion that he almost didn’t notice the scent of prey grow just slightly more pungent. They would soon find a collection for four caribous separated from the main herd. One would be lagging painfully, a bull with a dislocated hip. How unfortunate. Orwynd would think with a wolfy grin.