Bells in Santa Fe
Ranging further from home on his own was still a bit nerve wracking, but the urge to see more of the world was an unstoppable force in his own chest- strong has his heartbeat. Clad in his muntjac skull mask, and having left Bug at home in the event a rescue party needed to be rallied, he'd set off. The light rain that kissed his lichen dappled pelt as soon as he stepped out of the tight-knit canopy of the mangrove trees didn't bother him too much, neither did the gloomy grey sky. His wandering soul and nimble paws brought him north at an ambling gait, where he found himself almost immediately stymied by a wall of slowly tumbling water. The small pools naturally carved from the rock as the water had fallen along it over centuries, combined with the soft ambiance of burbling streams, left him breathless. How had he missed this? It was literally a hop, skip, and jump from his home. Skull tipped back to drink it all in, neck craning precariously backwards to take in every square inch of the view. The young healer slipped his mask away with a deft swipe of his paw, letting the leather straps catch its weight and swing it against his chest with a hollow thwack so his view wasn't obstructed in the slightest. Squinting against the light drizzle that dusted his lashes, he traced the paths of water. The waterline at ground level had exceeded the stone basins- the long winter and rainy autumn had brought a lot of extra water through the East. Taken aback by the majesty of the falls, he had entirely missed the oversized youngster sitting nearby. As he turned to begin making a path to the top, he noticed the dark shape lounging closer than he would like of a stranger. A grunt of surprise was joined by the swamp dweller tripping over his own paws, and stumbling to right himself. With the big paws and oversized ears, not to mention the barest trace of downy fluff still clinging desperately to a few small patches of his coat, this was undeniably a child. Yet.. this child was much bigger than he was, with a pair of dark horns curling from his skull and a soft glow coming from the patches of scales on his shoulders. Viridian eyes wide, he blinked at the strange youth a few times. Where did he keep finding these giant children, sitting around without a parent in sight? He had been so certain in the past that most wolves weren't keen to ditch their kids before they reached a year old, but maybe he was out of the loop. "Growin' our own horns now, are we?" he grunted with a slight frown, dipping his chin to glance down at his laboriously hand-crafted mask. "Had to steal these ones off a corpse, but I would'a grown my own if I'd known it was an option." he remarked with a lopsided, goofy grin. Then he cast his gaze around for a moment longer, searching for a parent that matched this kid in any way. Not a wolf in sight. Should he be looking for a goat, or a fish, perhaps? Nah, he'd seen a few weird looking wolves, this was probably one of those. "Your parents didn't abandon ya here, did they?" he asked hesitantly, looking back to the odd boy and shaking some of the drizzle out of his undercoat. |