strawberry's wake

Standing at the edge of the surf, it became abundantly clear to the little slip of a boy that he wasn't going to get across the land bridge to explore the rest of the territories that his mama had said he was allowed to visit. His soft, floppy ears tipped backwards as his brows furrowed in irritation. What was the point of being allowed to go out and see things, if he wasn't able to get there?

With a small, petulant sigh, the little hellhound turned around and tipped his head back to gaze up at the towering peaks of the mountains that stood out against the brilliant cerulean backdrop of the sky. There was no point in wasting the day, then. Spring was still young, and so the rocky terrain of the island remained cold underfoot and entirely unyielding. His dainty little paws carried him away from the wide open space of the beach, abandoning his attempt to cross to the mainland. The scattered forests that covered the rocky landscape beckoned him onwards, searching for something to occupy his attention for the day. Not that this would be a difficult feat, especially with the intense variability of the area. So he walked, skinny form slipping easily past dense patches of undergrowth and across long shadows of the early morning. The scent of the conifers surrounded him with an incredible, pungent aroma of spice that he could only call "green".

As he ventured further, and the sun rose higher, the forest floor was dappled with warm shafts of sunlight that brought small patches of the surrounding trees and undergrowth into incredible detail. Highlighted by the rays of the rising sun, he could stop to inspect the intricate webbing of veins within the leaves of the shrubs. Unable to help himself, the youngster nibbled lightly on the new buds of one of the flowering bushes that he passed. The fresh bud split easily under his needle sharp puppy teeth, but the taste was truly abysmal. That was the taste of greenery, he supposed. They weren't meant for wolves to eat, and so he didn't plan on eating any more.

The wide expanse of a glittering lake spread out before him as far as he could see, crystalline waters catching the warm light of the sun. He could see a few critters skating across the surface of the water, not quite like swimming, but not walking either. Plunging forwards into the shallows of the lake, he sent the creatures into flight, and found them to be birds of some kind. A thrilled series of pitchy barks escaped him, delighted to see the interesting new birds fly away and land on the other side of the lake. As he squinted against the reflections on the water, he could see that the birds seemed to be moving effortlessly on the surface of the water. He awkwardly hop-skipped his way deeper into the water, trying to get a better view of them. Swimming was already proving more difficult than he expected, and the boy quickly found himself abandoning the pursuit. He'd have to come back and study the water birds later.

By the time the foothills of the two mountains reached him, he could pick up the scents of strange wolves. He hadn't met them before, and he wondered if he was supposed to go introduce himself. A shiver of nerves tripped down his spine, and he chose instead to use his meagre size to his advantage. The yawning openings of a few scattered caves around the base of the mountain caught his attention, and so the youngster plodded up the well worn paths to investigate. The scents of the unfamiliar wolves were stronger here, they must all be living in these little caves. Rather than risk the consequences of intruding, the wee boy headed back around to the paths that led higher towards the peaks.

The higher he walked, the more he struggled. The path was less stable under his paws, riddled with loose stones and swept by increasingly strong winds. Once again he was squinting against the sunlight, and the wind that was beginning to overwhelm him. Once a strong current managed to shove him off-balance, the boy let out a startled yelp. He lost his grip on the rocky ground below, and began to slide down the incline- despite the scraping of his little claws against the rock, extra dewclaws and all. A strangled squeaking sound was all he could muster up to announce his distress, a sound easily drowned out by the cascading pebbled that accompanied his descent. By the time he stopped sliding and skidding down the path, he was just about back to the caves where it seemed like many of the other wolves lived. Well. Not doing that again. He picked himself up, shook himself off, and tried to quell the trembling in his skinny limbs.

Much more slowly than he'd come up the path, he picked his way down the path back to the grass and dirt that he was more accustomed to. Perhaps he'd avoid any rock climbing until he was big and strong like his mama. The little wolfdog pup found himself flopping over on the ground in a sunbeam a little ways from the rocky outcroppings of the foothills, thoroughly tuckered out from his adventure.

WC: 904 :)

pixels courtesy of king-lulu-deer & lvx-1