cry a little

The boy’s silvery paws carried his hefty body over the plateau, hunger gnawed at his belly as his rusty muzzle scented the air. Iron clung to the breeze, reminding Oxide of the scent of blood. Not against scavenging when forced to the Nightingale thought himself lucky to come upon an abandoned kill. When he came across the first rusty shards buried deep in the green of the grass he had been sorely disappointed. With a disapproving snort he had lifted his head and continued on, frustrated.

Always seeking a better vantage Oxide sought out a high point, deep garnet gaze sought purchase on the horizon. With a little effort the boy found a low hill, he scaled the side of it leading to an old metal carcass. It was huge, with many intricate but rusted pieces creating another hill on top of the dirt hill. Ox carefully picked his way up to the top of it and the landscape opened up to him.

He stood silently, his red eyes scanning the plain below for any sign of life. When he finally found what he was looking for he didn’t hide his disappointment that it was another of his kind. The boy watched her from the distance, far enough he couldn’t quite make out her eye color. She seemed young in her antics, jumping around like a deer fawn. If he were not so hungry he might not have made the decision to approach, but two were better than one in searching.

Oxide carefully descended from his perch, and lightly made his way closer to the she wolf. He didn’t try and hide himself as he called out briefly his approach. ”Greetings, lady.” Oxide offered with a quick nod of his head when he was a couple yards away.