I Come From The Land Where The Trees Fly West

Haiku’s least favorite place in the pack lands was the ticket. You couldn’t see very far and he was so big that his fur often caught in the thorns and branches that hung low over the paths. Rhyme reminded him that made it all the better as a defensive position and that he should do his best to learn the trails and paths. So he would. He walked swiftly through the snow, often getting caught on said brambles.

After he’d decided his skin had enough of the abuse Haiku made his way to the edge of the river. His passive paws leaving prints through the cold snow that covered Abaven. Thankful for and cursing the thick coat he had, it kept him warm but now his pelt was full of torn sticks and bits of nature. No matter how much he shook they stayed. With a heavy sigh he gave up, just in time to see Ruin and the boy on the ice.

Curious he loped forward his blue and lavender eyes spying the cracks in the ice from Askell’s paws. He must not have been brought up around the river. Lesson number one was don’t go in the river, flowing or frozen. ”Why are you on the water?” Haiku called out, just as helpful as Ruin but with opposite intentions. Haiku would have already leapt to the other boy’s aid, but his massive weight wouldn’t help either of them out there.