like coffee and cream
It wasn't the hubbub of voices that drew him, nor was it the scent of other wolves. He had a pack now, and did not crave company as badly as he used to.
It was the sense of freedom yet belonging he felt that pulled him to Ruieze Fields that day: the sense that despite having a place to call home, he could join the gatherings that he used to frequent. They were always rather odd; wolves found their soulmates or left with wolves they found interesting, but no one seemed to really converse. Raki found himself thinking about a gathering such as this that he hinself had started one summer; he had lain in a creek on a scorching day, and before too long wolves had started to appear.
This group was much the same as the last he had been to, and he even recognized some familiar physiques. This was a time when demons could walk alongside angels- or, at least, not pick fights- and love could be kindled in an instant.
And Raki relished it.
He walked directly through the heart of the group, looking around but not speaking. Just his large, powerful presence was enough for him to clear himself a path; without meaning to, he intimidated most wolves by his sheer size.
Part-way along, he stopped and looked around, cleared his throat. "I'm Raki," he said. His deep melody rang out through the group, and some wolves halted their quiet conversations to look at him.
If they introduced themselves in turn, great; if not, he had a home anyway.
R A K I
|| brute || eight summers || follower of taviora || mate || family ||
|| roaming || |