Romance is in the air...this is probably the most beautiful and scenic place in Blossom Forest. For the athletic and determined to come with their mates, for time away from pups. Only adults may come here; some of the ledges are too far apart for teens or pups to cross and some too high to scale.
IP: 156.34.192.199
Posted on October 4, 2011 at 00:29:15 AM by Quirino
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This situation seriously sucked. The crimson toned brujo looked around him, trying to gauge the likelihood of making it back down to more level ground, ground where the precious commodities such as water and food could be found. He moved his forepaw slightly and held back a wince. He was a warrior, not a mere baby who would show his pain. Although he was tiny, it was true. He was a warrior, or at least he would be in the near future. When he hit his teen years, Saladin would train him both general skills such as the art of fighting and the art of hunting as well as more complex lessons - a specialized art of his own. Whether he would be an assasian, body guard, superb hunter or be put in a team had yet to be seen. In the old place (a place that he didn't remember very well, as he had been even smaller than he is now when they departed from it those few weeks ago), they hadn't had specialized ranks, but the minute scarlet lad guessed that, as they moved to change the world as Blossom Forest wolves knew it, they would need more soldiers than ever to complete that goal. Yes, the strong would conquer the weak. And he was gonna be among the strong when that happened, due to the fact that he was most certainly not gonna die on this nasty cliff just because he had decided to climb it. And yes, he WAS going to finish climbing it. As soon as his stupid paw decided to heal itself. Now, enough about that. At the moment, he had much better things to ponder on than the elusive future. Starting with getting himself out of the mess that he had slipped (quite literally...) into. Remarkably, the red-furred boy did as well as his thoughts on superiority. As egotistical and stuck up as he might have been, Qui really lived up to his high standards for himself. He didn't panic as he observed his surroundings. His dark, nearly black eyes were cool, his expression determined rather than frightened. He turned his head slowly to the side, scrutinizing all possible ways down from where he was situated and the gloriously, flat ground that was abounding in small moufes that he could easily apprehend and devour even without the use of his paw. Instead of allowing himself to drift of into fantasies about eating the fuzzy things, he channelled his focus fully into the present. He raised his head high into the air in a show of bravery that was meant to give him some personal motivation when he caught the scent of something. No, not something. Someone... He narrowed his eyes and searched for the being whose perfume he had sensed. After a moment of eye-darting, he discovered the figure of some wolf heading toward him. He stiffened. Their was something farmiliar about the scent that cloaked the male who was hurrying toward him. However, no matter how much the puppy racked his thump-befuddled brain, he could quite place it. The wolf had been moving at a harried pace, hurrying to his rescue, no doubt, and now was walking more slowly. Quirino would have smirked if his head hadn't been pounding so much. The youth couldn't get any expression up on his palate save for a mask of stony impassiveness as the (strange?) brutus walked toward him. The other wolf is only a few feet away and opening his mouth to speak when his smell connected to his face and became his identity. Sniper. Quirino had never seen his father. When the old one had run off, his dark gems had yet to be shown to the world. Said gems turned toward the adult now as he spoke. He had mixed feelings about what Sniper said, but the primary emotion he was able to identify was definitely a mixture of hurt, disgust and, strangely, a new surge of devoutness toward Saladin, his grandfather. When the blood-hued muzzle opened, the words that came out sounded distinctly venomous. "I don't know what you are talking about. I don't have a father." Eat that, loser. To add to his cruel streak, he spoke again, his voice still as cold as the dark side of the moon, perhaps colder. It had a freezing quality to it that even liquid nitrogen could not replicate. "And I don't need your help. I'm absolutely fine." With that, the red puppy (or should I say, imbecile) thrust his tail into the air at a jaunty angle and prepared to walk off. But failed. He took one step on his severely strained paw, grit his teeth to keep a yelp from escaping before attempting another step. The proud youngling wasn't going to give up so easily... But maybe he was. The cliff was littered with sharp rocks and jagged edges, so when he placed his left paw on one of those and instinctively compensated by throwing his weight into his right, he found the limb refused to hold his weight. He sprawled to the ground not six paces from his father... Eurgh. Stupid paw. Heal FASTER!  |
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