IP: 97.121.196.155
Posted on December 2, 2014 at 03:06:23 AM by Sabre
 I've been watching her for some time now. The young, inexperienced thing slipping and sliding and scrambling all over her paws. If I wasn't such a damn reserved creature, I might have even chuckled; I might have even smiled. But as it was, I was no such thing. Instead, there is nothing but amusement in my mismatched gaze, emerald and cobalt so utterly focused on her. She's a great deal younger than me; probably more than a decade or so, and where her coat is lustrous, sleek, shiny, I know mine is the dull black of an old raven wing. There's the white grizzling at my chin and ticking along my jaw with the red there, but otherwise, there's not much else on me. But I've never been considered with my looks, and usually not many others, for that matter. There was Starr all those years ago, but those are times long since past, and the young wolf before me is no decadent assassin of mine.
Though she struggles, she eventually prevails, and if I were to give my reaction in another perspective, I would choose a slow, obnoxious clap. For I am a wolf of the tundra, of the unkind and bitter cold. A cold so unyielding and consuming that the very marrow of your bones aren't even safe. A skinny, small thing like her would be mince meat out there, where the bands of thieves , murderers, rapists and tyrants alike roam free, doing as they please, having as they will. In a place like this, so soft and gentle in the world- a wolf born here would know nothing of the world. But, the girl has made it all the same, and that deserves something, if anything at all. I take my time in my movements, for I know she cannot see me. I am down wind, and the shade of my abode keeps my dark pelt well hidden from prying, unwanted eyes. Though I have just been lying down, I have now pushed to my large black paws, stretching in a manner most feline. Much as they may be an opposite species to my own, they sure know a thing a two, with their stretching and lazy naps in the sunshine. And a dark pelt like mine sure does soak up the sun something fierce, and I think perhaps after what I'm about to do I may find a nice rock for the rest of the day. The cold means absolutely nothing to me, and any sun means warmth, even if other wolves are too stupid to know it. When I'm content with the stretching of my older bones, I finally make my way from my place, rounding the pool she had just traversed to come at her from the side. When I speak, my tone is one most deep and unused, for it is seldom that I grace others with my voice. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were born in the tundra." I'm not usually such an emotional fellow, but there is the barest hint of sarcasm within my voice. Who knows if the girl even knows what a tundra is, let alone if she could pick up on my sarcasm. For all I knew, she was a dim wit that simply liked to try and fail when walking on ice, and I was here, wasting my time. But, mistmached eyes of blue and green watch her expectantly, waiting for her to prove me wrong or otherwise. |