Tapping the Barrel of a Steel Blue .38
He hadn't be home in weeks. He had gone out in search of adventure. Ever since their move from Covari, he had felt out of place and bored with life. But then this storm had struck and shook the world into chaos. It had taken sometime to get home, he had to navigate around flooded lands, and he ended up lost several times. His mothers call would reach him, faint and barely recognizable, especially with the howl of the wind. His brows would furrow with concern, something was different, a bad different. He was on the far side of the gulley, with only furthered his lateness.
Broad shoulders would roll, massive paws splashing into the mud. Her crown hung level with his spine, eyes hooded against the harsh rain. He would pick up his pace to a steady trot, his tail dragging limply behind him. Nostrils would quiver, picking up a cluster of scents as he closed in on his mothers den. Slowing to a walk, a frown would pull his lips down. Rune and Amarant were here. But someone else was here, someone he didn't know. Slipping into the den, there was barely room for all of them. His gaze would first find Rune, confused. Then he would look to his brother and mother. Amarant was curled against her chest, and his mother looked ill. It was then that he registered the heavy scent of illness that suffocated him. His mother was sick. Curled around his mother was a huge man, he took up most of the den, but nothing about his was familiar.
A low whine would leave his jaws as he lowered himself to his belly. Crawling forward, ears fell flat against his skull. He would press himself against her side, burying his face in her neck. "Mama?" His voice was low, gruff and filled with worry. What was wrong with her? |