past grandmother’s house we go
Verg
While he wasn't in the orchard itself, the smell of fermenting fruit had certainly caught his attention in passing. The lichen dappled wolf had considered stopping there to see what might be lurking about, but had abandoned it in favour of continuing his journey south. He hadn't gotten more than a few hundred paces away when a howl rang out from the clustered trees, and there was no choice (in his mind) but to respond and see what was going on. He tucked his bag of supplies away under a winterberry bush, marking the place in his mind only. If he scent marked, someone else would certainly investigate and find his food and furs for travelling. They would probably steal it, and he'd have to abandon the adventure early. With a spring in his step, and his muntjac skull firmly affixed to his face, the yearling ambled into the trees. As he ventured deeper in, chasing the freshest scents for the caller, the musty aroma of sheep mingled with the sharp musk of wolves. Well.. that wasn't too odd, right? Wolves hunted sheep, and corralling them into close quarters was as great tactic for separating a herd for a hunt. That must have been what that was all about. He crashed through some particularly uncooperative brambles, and found himself staring at an animal he didn't immediately recognize. At least, until he realized it was someone wearing some furs. Wait. Under the coverings of the furs that were strapped to his body, the strange male was very naked. How did that happen to someone? Lifting his head, he scented the air. This wasn't a wolf. Close, but not exactly. The furs still smelled faintly of coyote. "Where'd your fur go?" he asked from the edge of the trail, verdant gaze narrowed behind the pale bone of his mask. He certainly wasn't going to entertain this stranger if they had some weird hair-loss disease. He needed whatever fur he had, thin or not. "Are you the one that called out earlier?" he added with a curious tilt of his head. |