The roll was almost euphoric for the scraggly boy, the dying blades of grass providing relief from his itch even as they stuck to his coarse coat. He is upside down, wriggling from end to end like a fish of dry land when his gray-blue eyes land on her. Instantaneously he stops with his breath hitching in his throat. Slowly he takes her in, his eyes raking every inch of her from the tips of her ears to where her toes are lost in the grasses. In his view she is upside down and how appropriate it is for surely the entire axis of his world has just been shifted. Slowly he rolls over until he is right-side-up and laying in the grass with his eyes never leaving her even as she casts shy glances his way. His mouth hung slack as he searched for words, Latin or otherwise that might actually describe this but nothing came to mind. Did she feel it too, the pull of his soul to hers? He knew much of the imprint lore and while it had never been a concern to him before this was a pull he was not able to ignore and her thought perhaps he was seeing the last of his so far effete life passing away.

Slowly he got to his feet, bits of dry, dead grass falling from his disheveled coat. She looks away for a moment and he hurriedly runs his paw over his ears, even going so far as to lick at the coarse hair on his chest and shoulders making his best go to look presentable. This, of course, was to no avail. His coat often seemed to have a mind of its own, the long, coarse hair sticking out haphazardly and refusing to cooperate. This was the first time he had actually cared about that, however. Slowly he began to trot around the outskirts of the group, circling around until he is closer to her but behind the majority of the group. He was able to study her a bit closer now, the golden, cream, and white hues that ran across her body a beautiful painting that was such a stark difference to his own monotone coat.

Finally he lets out a soft bark ending in a bit of a whine in case she hadn’t seen him come around, his slender tail waving consistently at his heels. Eagerly his soft blue eyes scan over her hopeful that she wouldn’t be disappointed in him, as much as he must look like an unkempt ruffian. He thought he should say something eloquent, something that Sinclair would say that would make her happy that he was Fate’s choice for her imprint; yet standing there with a big grin on his constantly youthful looking face he says the only thing he can think of. “Hello.” His voice is as light and airy as his personality as he stands there hopeful and awaiting her judgement.