Adventures were good for the soul. Life was not simply about surviving. In Diveen there was always an surplus of food despite the incredibly large pack that it was. The land was spacious for all the animals taking up territory yet it was completely and utterly safe. At the moment Zaphkiel didn't want safe. For two years he had grown up amongst the wilds of the beyond hearing tale after incredible tale and seeking them out at their source to find out the truth of the matter. It had led to some interesting predicaments. One such predicament had left a permanent marker upon his figure in the form of four jagged claw marks down his left hip. Some might retell such a story with trepidation and fear, fear for the fact that he had come very close to stepping forever across the threshold of the dreamworld, but Zaphkiel could spin a tale like no other. There was a fierce excitability about him when in the throes of a new story and he was thrilled at his scar. It gave him much to tell others about and though some might believe his stories embellished Zaphkiel told them as he believed them.

So he trots across the woodland with only the intention to find something to get into this day. Zaphkiel was a seeker of things and a truth diviner in his own mind. There was an intelligence, brashness, and an equal pound of kindness and arrogance to him, but sometimes the normal things of life slipped his mind in the greatness of his anticipations. Like food for instance. He had left Diveen without eating a proper breakfast and everyone knows how breakfast is the most important meal of the day. So as he moves between thin and thick trees towards a group of boulders plunged upward from the earth his belly begins to grumble in the most unbecoming manner. Yet he is distracted for the scent, rather strong, of a female and male linger nearby and the swoop of a rather large hawk downward has him lunging forward in stark curiosity.

Yet when he arrives there are no wolves to be found. The hawk is standing on the ground over a mouse about to spear it with it's sharp beak and Zaphkiel's eye - for his left is blind, though he moves so gracefully that none would know it - sharpens as he lunges forward, teeth snapping at the now outstretched wing of the creature. It screams in protest and pushes upward, batting at his face with it's strong wings and scratching at his maw with it's talons but Zaphkiel is unperturbed. The moment it is out of range he turns his attention to the two dead mice with a greedy look, scooping them up one after the other and crunching on them in only a few eager bites before swallowing the mess of their shattered bodies.

Now that he was semi-sated Zaphkiel was intensely interested in the scents around him. Why would a wolf just leave their kill here? Uneaten? Free game? And there goes his need to find out why even though it really is an insignificant question but he finds himself trailing after the strong scent of the female, moving across a stream, subsequently shaking off his wet fur, and then deeper into the forest. The sound of low growling can be heard in the air and his ears swivel around trying to justify where the sound was coming from since the trees seemed to knock it back and forth. Finally he spots her at a distance, her white fur a beacon amongst the lush greens and browns, and Zaphkiel approaches with an easy smile on his face - though some might call it a smirk.

"Guess the mice weren't nearly as good as a racoon huh? I would have ate both. Still will if you decide you want to hunt something grander."