Here Fishy Fishy
01-05-2014, 02:40 PM
Carlito "Sucre" Dalibor
Following his nose, Sucre searched for the river. He could smell it; the heavy blend of plant decay, fish waste and minerals. Encouraged by the sun, the water warmed and clouds of the odorous vapor lifted off its surface, tendrils of the scent dispersing far and wide. Unless he was farther away than he thought or his ears deceived him, the brute guessed that the stretch of river he was headed towards was calm and flowed easy. Perfect. That's just what he was looking for.
The brute picked the path of least resistance; his paws meeting nothing but soft mud and damp plant matter. Others had come this way at some point and even though their scent tainted nothing around him evidence of their passing surrounded him. He was getting closer.
It had been some days since his last encounter with wolfkind and to be honest, he hadn't been that impressed. This land was very different from the one he'd be born in, that much he knew, and so were the inhabitants. The stranger's voice had been laced with an accent he wasn't familiar with and it made conversing difficult. Eventually, their conversation having stalled, the two brutes had parted. No matter. He hadn't been Sucre's type anyway.
Finally the bushes opened up before him and lo and behold, there it was: the river.
Down he went, slipping and sliding down the muddy embankment. At one point Sucre was up to his belly in mud. Every time one leg was freed another got pulled in deeper. The brute slowly picked and hopped his way towards the water, wishing he'd thought a little further ahead and found a better place to come down. Really, a little foresight would have saved him a lot of trouble.
At last, Sucre eased himself into the water. The mud under his paws was still thick and slimy, but the buoyancy of the water removed enough weight from him to keep him aloft. He swam out into the river, a cloudy trail of mud behind him, tail swishing from side to side like a rudder. Oh, baby was it cold! He let out a whoop as the frigid water seeped into his fur. Cold, cold, cold! Geez Louise, he was gonna freeze his backside-and all of its parts-off!
He snapped at the water, catching and lifting a mouthful up before spitting it out between his teeth. The brute took to spinning and snapping, spitting and flinging water in all directions, laughing while he did so. Sure, he was grown, but where was the fun in acting like it all the time? Or ever, really? No, he'd much rather laugh and yes, be laughed at, than shoulder the world like some wolves did.
Frozen bits aside, he was enjoying himself. Heck, maybe if he were lucky he could walk away with a fish.
Following his nose, Sucre searched for the river. He could smell it; the heavy blend of plant decay, fish waste and minerals. Encouraged by the sun, the water warmed and clouds of the odorous vapor lifted off its surface, tendrils of the scent dispersing far and wide. Unless he was farther away than he thought or his ears deceived him, the brute guessed that the stretch of river he was headed towards was calm and flowed easy. Perfect. That's just what he was looking for.
The brute picked the path of least resistance; his paws meeting nothing but soft mud and damp plant matter. Others had come this way at some point and even though their scent tainted nothing around him evidence of their passing surrounded him. He was getting closer.
It had been some days since his last encounter with wolfkind and to be honest, he hadn't been that impressed. This land was very different from the one he'd be born in, that much he knew, and so were the inhabitants. The stranger's voice had been laced with an accent he wasn't familiar with and it made conversing difficult. Eventually, their conversation having stalled, the two brutes had parted. No matter. He hadn't been Sucre's type anyway.
Finally the bushes opened up before him and lo and behold, there it was: the river.
Down he went, slipping and sliding down the muddy embankment. At one point Sucre was up to his belly in mud. Every time one leg was freed another got pulled in deeper. The brute slowly picked and hopped his way towards the water, wishing he'd thought a little further ahead and found a better place to come down. Really, a little foresight would have saved him a lot of trouble.
At last, Sucre eased himself into the water. The mud under his paws was still thick and slimy, but the buoyancy of the water removed enough weight from him to keep him aloft. He swam out into the river, a cloudy trail of mud behind him, tail swishing from side to side like a rudder. Oh, baby was it cold! He let out a whoop as the frigid water seeped into his fur. Cold, cold, cold! Geez Louise, he was gonna freeze his backside-and all of its parts-off!
He snapped at the water, catching and lifting a mouthful up before spitting it out between his teeth. The brute took to spinning and snapping, spitting and flinging water in all directions, laughing while he did so. Sure, he was grown, but where was the fun in acting like it all the time? Or ever, really? No, he'd much rather laugh and yes, be laughed at, than shoulder the world like some wolves did.
Frozen bits aside, he was enjoying himself. Heck, maybe if he were lucky he could walk away with a fish.