Brightly Wound
01-13-2014, 04:31 AM
Walk | "Talk" | Think Getting used to the island was proving to be just the challenge he had expected it to be. The new terrain made him somewhat on edge because of its strangeness though it was not for himself that he worried. He was large and strong, capable of handling himself if it came to it. No, it was his little mate that he thought of, her and their unborn children that she carried. She was a tiny thing to start with and now on top of that she was hampered even more by her condition, even more exposed than usual. He could not bare the thought of harm befalling her or their children, could not allow such things to happen, and so he had been working toward familiarizing himself with his new home, wanting to know of all the dangers before they found Alamea. He heard the call to meet and at first reacted in the most minimalistic way, acknowledging it with a flicker of an ear as he continued along about his business. But it crossed his mind a moment late that it was none other than Chrysanthe, the russet and white woman who had welcomed him into Valhalla to stand beside Alamea. Good impression he would make if he ignored her call and kept looking around. It was strange being in a pack and answering to others again. Wasting no more time, the burly grey wolf made toward the call and arrived well after the majority of the pack already had. His frosty blue eyes traveled the length of the gathered, expression set sternly. Sure is a lot of them, he mused, hanging back until he caught sight of the spring pink eyes of Alamea. Expression softening ever so slightly, he wound his way through the Valhallan wolves to her side, head lowered and posture neutral. With a quiet, chuffing noise in greeting, he gave her a inconspicuous nuzzle against her cheek and seated himself protectively at her side, gaze continuing to wander about and gauge what he could about those others who called Valhalla home. |
