Patrolling Warrior

*Surreal* · 05-14-2013, 06:07 PM

Surreal

Tiny paws stumbled over stick and twigs that hid under fallen leaves as the deep grey she-pup forged her path through one of the many forested areas in Valhalla. Never once did she feel fear at being out alone, without Papa or Mama along t guard and guide her. Mismatched blue and gold eyes, still slightly dim in color, having yet to gain their full brilliance, gazed around determinedly at the world that made her look so small. She was a warrior. She was patrolling. Her thin tail was lifted high in confidence, head lifted high as she made her way through Valhalla. Mother had been napping. So had the others. Papa was out hunting, or patrolling, like her! She wanted to be a strong warrior like her father, and yet she wanted to be like her mother, too, gentle and kind.

A squeak exploded from her little muzzle as she tripped over a stick, tumbling tail over nose to the ground with a muffled Oomph! She lay there a moment, surprised, then sat up and looked over her shoulder at the offending stick. Why that little? She yapped at it, high yips singing in the air as she unloaded a bit of embarrassment and temper at the stick, which naturally didn?t respond. Her outburst stopped as her still flyaway mind forgot the offence of the stick, and she sat back, rump wiggling as she looked around. Something was different. The smell? She lifted her head and sniffed, like Papa sometimes did. Yes, something was different. Her young mind didn?t fully understand the difference. An older wolf would have understood at once. She was on the other side of the border.

The difference was fascinating to her. She had no inkling that she could very well be in serious danger.

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