Arthfael
It was late spring and he needed to get out of that dank hole. There were too many of them—four, four pups, mom and dad. So many. Six of them in the den, and though there was enough space, he needed to get out. The adventurer, the wanderer, the creature that needed to absolutely, entirely, incredibly not be here any longer. It was early morning now, and no one seemed to be awake. He was starting to move better, move with more efficiency, getting the hang of his paws. That would make him more happy than anything, to be able to capably and effectively move on these too-large snowshoe paws. Granted, that would take time. Everything took time, everything would come in time, and Arthfael would just have to wait for that to happen.
But for now, he was able to wander to the mouth of the den and across the plush spring grass. How cool was that? He could use his own feet to get places, places that were outside the dankness that had become his home. A breath of fresh air in his system, and something crazy brilliant that stuck to his feet. Adventure soaked through his blood and straight into his veins, coursing and running there like it had always belonged. That was neat. That was probably the neatest of all the feelings he’d had yet, and the high strung little adventurer wanted more. It was a craving, a reckless yearning in his bones.
So he did it. Arthfael pranced and trotted, though his paws were still clumsy, he had the confidence. Confidence, pure and simple, was the way to go in this situation. Confident, brilliant, and absolutely fantastic. He could do this, especially as he made his way toward the packlands through the high grass. High grass. How cool was that, it was bigger than he was. Everything had this weird sort of wonder about it, and the plains pup made himself right at home. Though he wasn’t that far from the den (within sight, if he hadn’t been in the grass) it felt like an adventure to him. That was all that mattered.
fenrir x natu - zero - asteraia
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