Traydon River

This river is famously known for its fish!

-look up to the sky; is it still good to feel alive?-
IP: 2.100.154.27
Posted on November 24, 2011 at 03:25:13 PM by Abraxas

The borzoi dog wasn't in the best of moods. It had been far too long since the storyteller had lured somebody into his dark tales; he was in danger of growing bored. Pack life was easy enough, and new new alpha seemed bearable, though Abraxas was yet to decide whether he had preferred Sin and Cross. Many of the other creatures in the pack had complained that the pair had been cruel, but the half of the pair that Abraxas had met seemed a good leader.

Abraxas had no illusions about himself forming bonds with his fellow pack members- he was not the most social of creatures apart from when he was telling his tales. He would bear them, his thoughts, as always, unreadable, but what would he care if they were all to die? Not one whit. Abraxas heart was locked far beyond their reach.

The dog was tall and lean, rather bigger than the average wolf and built like a greyhound. His pelt was curly, gold and white; he had long, slender limbs and was considerably faster than  most wolves, with his sighthounds slender body. The brutes tail was curved and whiplike, tipped with black- his face was elegant, a delicate, slender muzzle and large, dark eyes. Round his left foreleg ankle, there wound a thin ring of black fur.

The night was dark and stormy, the wind howling ferociously and making the trees shake and groan. Here, the forest was thick and the riverbank almost vertical  and slick with the rain that had passed over earlier that day. A night for a story, if Abraxas was any judge. He paused, his eyes reflecting the starlight, and smiled.

(For Dionsyus)

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