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He felt old.
Not really, not in his bones as his father had once described age, but rather in knowledge. The orange moon signaled the next turn of the black's life, a new year.
Seven years now he had walked the world, and to what? No pups to carry his blood, no female to stand at his side. Over this Korr mulled as he walked, the tall grasses tickling his shoulders. His thoughts lingered on the concept of blood, of children, of his growing age.
He was in the sunset of his prime, for the last years of his life would fly by before he knew it. He didn't mind it much, the more he thought about it. His sisters no doubt had whelps to continue their lineage, and Zorr had sired three children before he died.
Issue solved, Korr's attention turned from inward to outward, focusing upon his surroundings. He moved with a rolling gait, ambling through the golden plains in no real hurry. What did he have to rush for? He had no pack, no family to visit, honestly all he had to do in terms of actions were hunting and exploring, the latter he felt his age upon, for seeing new things held little wonder for him now.
Everywhere was the same, when you got to it.
Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair Mo Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think
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