Powdered Eggs, Lard, and Prune Juice
ooc. Virgil, losing the link to a starter for two weeks? It's more likely than you think! When the call rang out from well beyond the familiar territories of the pack, the boy's ears perked. The lamb that was busily nibbling on the end of his tail immediately stopped, anxiously trotting a few steps away before it returned to its friend's side. It was only when the boy got to his oversized paws that the tiny shrike bothered to take flight and alight in the downy fur of his ruff. It took a moment to register the actual owner of the voice as his uncle, who he'd only learned was his uncle after his dad offhandedly mentioned it. Since Álarr hadn't mentioned their relation when they'd first met, it didn't seem like he cared that much about being called "uncle" or anything like that. Somehow.. that made him cool. Without a second's hesitation, off the youngster went. The nervous lamb, still uncertain about his tenuous friendship with the wolf who tended to lurk around the barn and pastures all day, did not follow. It didn't irk the boy much, he was more interested in going to see what his uncle was doing so far from home. Was this one of those herb gathering expeditions that he'd heard about? It became more a matter of following the scent trails left behind than anything, though Butcher did an excellent job of periodically scouting out the surrounding area and then harassing him back onto the right path. By the time the scent of smoke caught his attention, the youngster was already practically there. So he merely picked up the pace, and trotted towards the growing sounds of a crackling fire. Tall ears shoved forward and tail high, he bounded into view with tongue lolling from his jaws. "Álarr!" he crowed gleefully, practically skidding to a stop before he could wander right into the open flames in the middle of the assemblage. "What are we doing today?" was the next question, and certainly the most important one. It was not, however, the only one on his mind. Tipping his skull towards where he could hear the idle shuffling of young paws, and smell the milky aroma of a fellow pup, he did his best to angle his sightless gaze in her vague direction. It was hard to figure out exactly where to look, but it was the thought that counts, right? "Who're you?" he asked, not unkindly, and dropped heavily onto his haunches while he waited for the reason he'd been called. "" |