Wet. Can one even describe what it is like to always be wet? Paws damp. Each hair clinging to droplets, permanently sodden with the mud that surrounds him. Dry land? What's that? He wouldn't know. He only finds himself in places where puddles and rivers linger every few feet. It is home to him. He finds comfort in the way his paws make that squelching noise. Each step suctioning to the muddy mixture until he pulls it up and out of its grasp. Some find it disgusting. He can sense the eyes on him as he wanders. From place to place, not much on his mind. Eyes in the shadows. Other wolves, predators, little prey animals that taunt him. Still young, still quite the... inexperienced hunter. He's trying though. He's also trying to be better at navigating.
Once he crossed what some called The Bifrost, he actually found himself lost. Hadn't actually made his way to this Boreas continent before. Had no idea what lay in store for him as he followed the eastern shore north. From fields of puddles to black sands to suddenly being surrounded by fog and muck and tall grass. Twisting trees loom overhead, their gnarled branches hanging low and tickling his forehead every so often. He doesn't mind it actually. He is tall, looming himself, over most as his vibrant ruby eyes stare ahead. Menacing in a sense except the glimmer of a smirk betrays him. There's no seriousness about him. Youthful carelessness brings about a terror that is more harmless than murderous.
His own gaze looks to the sky. Covered by those twisting and ugly branches, he wonders where the stars had all gone. Not a cloud, but the fog is so thick he almost believes he can't breathe through it. What was this place? A trap? Distracted by those thoughts, wandering, aimless, no end, he doesn't notice the woman lingering up ahead. Not until that gentle shift in the breeze brings her scent his way. Freezing, one paw up, hackles puffing slightly, he watches her. She's older, a mother? The way her body is shaped gives away what she probably wishes to hide. Her coat though is mesmerizing. Much more appetizing than his camouflage of browns and greens. Pausing, he waits to finish closing the distance. Instead, he choose to be cheeky.
"Think you're heading the wrong way, miss. I'm back here," the coy look on his face reveals all. Yes, he's lost. Yes, he has no idea what he's doing. But does he care? Probably not any in the least.
719/1500
