A Long Journey
12-06-2013, 06:58 PM
A rumbling growl was just about to burst from the young male's throat when the wind carried to him an unusual scent. He turned sharply, just in time to see a pale ghost moving through the trees. He blinked once, slowly, reassessing his vision, but the specter remained. She was pale as the snow, and then some, so ethereal that the rose-like pigment, or lack there of, of her skin shower through. Her eyes were as red as rubies and filled with a fierce determination that immediately captured him. She carried a scent, delicate, but intriguing. Did ghosts carries scents? Surely not. This creature was real, corporeal, lengths away from where he stood. His eyes went wide. Perhaps this day was not such a lost cause after all. Practically stumbling over his paws in his haste, with all the dignity his two years could afford him, Aros scrambled after her. Her trail of course was not hard to follow, but she was next to impossible to distinguish from the surrounding snow. It wasn't until he was practically right on top of her, only a handful of body lengths away, that he skidded to a stop. Closer up, he could tell that this was no ordinary female indeed. She towered above him, her body rippling with impressive strength, her beauty unsurpassed by any lupess he had seen thus far in this luck-forsaken land. For a brief, terrifying moment, his voice stuck in his throat, and rasped when he finally forced his words out. "You there!" he called. "Shewolf, what is your name?" The desire to know overpowered him. Surely she came from noble blood, surely she would see the worth in his own noble breeding. He was Aros son of Bjornolf son of Asgeir of Ysgarion. She could not turn him down, certainly she had to be the one. She had to be. "Speech," Thoughts, |
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