the king wants his gold

*Cormalin* · 08-15-2013, 02:25 PM

Cormalin

Cormalin padded slowly along the Borders of Valhalla, taking his time, reading what the wind had to bring him. It was the middle of Summer, his least favorite season, due to his black fur, but he endured, and kept his jovial nature intact. Dips in the Border River helped as well, and his fur was still damp from a recent swim. It was drying fast though. This Summer however, was nothing compared to one of the Summers back in the Old Land. A nasty drought had dried up a neighboring pack?s water supply, and they had sought refuge with Valhalla, swelling the already great ranks to an alarming number of wolves. This Summer was mild in comparison, and while the grasses of the plains dried into hay, it was a natural occurrence, and the dry grass still held nutrition enough to support prey, and Obsidian.

He paused, nose twitching. Two new scents, male and female, rode the breeze that ruffled his thick, now dry ruff. Instantly on alert, to took off at a low trot, ears forward, as he continued to read the scents. They had tinges cooler air, pine, and many females. A brow rose. Pack wolves, from a pack made up of more females than males. He snorted, expelling the scents from his nostrils, and taking a fresh sniff. A strange tang mingled with the male?s scent. Like blood, but not. Having never encountered gold in his life, he was slightly baffled. Chrysanthe?s scent mingled with the two strangers, and even as he drew near, he heard her voice, enquiring as to their presence at Valhalla. He stepped into the area, coming to stand beside Chrysanthe with a soft whuff to his Alpha, before mismatched eyes turned to study the strangers.

The male was large, and pale. Albino, by his pink skin and ruby eyes. He wondered how the male kept from getting sunburned from all the pink skin under the short white fur of his face. It made Cormalin glad to be dark, black, hot fur and all. Sunburn, he?d heard, was worse. Painfully so. The glint of light on something shiny on the male caught his attention. The bangles were a curious thing, but he gave them only a mere glance before turning his attention to the female. She stood as tall as his sister at thirty-six inches, but had the build of a warrior. Her coloration was that of greys and whites, with a pair of fiery crimson eyes set into two dark circles. She was a pretty thing, but he paid no attention to the looks.

He studied the two again, this time taking in the sinister stance of the male, the determination intertwined, and the female?s watchful ready position of a warrior who would fight if she must. He himself stood calm, tail relaxed, ears canted at easy attention, waiting to hear what they had to say in answer to Chrysanthe?s words.

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