I Should Have Seen This Coming

*Alaria* · 10-10-2013, 05:06 PM

Alaria let her tired orbs close for a moment, but only for a moment. As distrustful and wary as she was, there was no possible way that Ria would sleep in the open, where any wolf could find her and hurt her. Sleeping equates to letting a guard down, and that was one thing Alaria never did around other wolves. Ria paused for a moment, flicking her eyelids open once more as she reviewed that thought process. How did I become this wolf. This wasn't me a year ago. What happened? And then she remembered, disgusted that she could forget in the first place. It began when her parents abandoned her as a young pup. What wolf wouldn't be scarred by that? And then when her adoptive mother died, it was the beginning of the end for Alaria. She morphed into a sarcastic, snarky, suspicious, and distrustful wolf, of any creature that could speak, for creatures who could speak, could lie. They could worm their way into her heart, into her mind, and then destroy her. They could leave her. Willingly or not. Alaria wasn't about to put herself through that misery again and again. It almost killed her the first time.

A completely understandable feeling of frustration filled Alaria. She didn't want to feel like this. And yet, she had no other choice. She didn't know how not to. And just like that, her pity party ended when Alaria caught the scent of an approaching wolf. By the smell, she deciphered that it was a young male, most likely around her age. She could tell, also, that he meant her no harm. There was nothing whatsoever threatening about his scent, and yet despite that, Alaria's hackles rose. The ebony fur cloaking her like a shadow began to rise and stand at stiff attention. Without commanding her muscles to, Ria's lips lifted to display her fangs, a snarl building in her throat. However, it lodged itself there, not quite ready to threaten what she could not see.

Alaria scrambled to her overly-large paws, scrabbling in the moss a bit. The brute came into sight, a medium-sized gray and white male with piercing, lime green eyes. Alaria lowered her head towards the ground, her amber eyes locked on the male. Her hackles still bristling in an impressive show of force, and her elegant ears pinned flat to her skull, Alaria loosed the snarl that had built in her throat. The sound ripped out of her maw, threatening the male not to come any closer. Ria may have hear his soft voice, but the words never registered in her brain. All she saw, all she heard, was a threat. Alaria slowly backed away from him, but stopped when she realized she was at the edge of the overhang. And thus, a fight or flight situation became a fight situation. Alaria was not one to enjoy being backed into a corner, and automatically she became even more dangerous. In an equally soft voice, though ten times as deadly, Alaria spoke. "If you value your life, I highly suggest that you run away. As far and as fast as you can." Alaria was a force to be reckoned with, yes. Her voice was sharp and flinty, and it could cut one to pieces as easily as fragmented pieces of glass. But her eyes. Her eyes portrayed a much different story. Her eyes plead for help, a silent scream that even she couldn't hear.

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