Ah life. That abstract concept of a thing that people liked to question so. The useless 'What if?' questions that plagued to mind, yet had no bearing on reality. How many parallel worlds had been opened up just by postulating what a world made of Skittles would look like? Among other ridiculous things of course. Fritjof tries to move on, without dwelling on other possibilities, because in the real world there are none.
While Fritjof was no stranger to loss, one kept moving, despite the pain. And things that were once important became no longer important. Where before, social interaction and intrigue had been necessary to him, food and shelter took precedence when cast into a vulberable place. It is almost like believing chicken is the best thing you have ever tasted, because you are so hungry, your body craves it, craves anything, even if you normally hate chicken. But hunger sated his curiosity is present, back in control and fixed on the female in front of him. His gaze is fixed, and he is about to break the silence that has briefly fallen, but then hears running, fast.
And then there is another female, sliding into the first wolf as if she is home base on a winning play, and he jumps back a few feet, startled. Who was the young wolf running from in such haste that she would risk running into such an imposing leader (for he assumed that is what the first wolf was, if this one was running to her)? He half crouches, watching the scene unfold, like a viewer at the movie theater. Not a part of the action but just a spectator watching characters. He is staring beyond where she came from, waiting for the villain to make an onscreen appearance. Was there anyone coming?
He has decided they must know each other, both by the protective stance the first has taken over the second and by the fact no snarling broke loose when the two collided. They did have similar scents on them. Fritjof was not sure how to address this problem, but since he had offered his services, so to speak, he waited to see if there would be a fight. Even if the other was a seasoned fighter, it was easier with help, and who knew how many enemies. He looks the wolf who has apologized profusely over. She looks very different than the first. Lighter in color pattern, but that is nothing important. She is also softer, submissive, and looks newer to the world. He offers a light wag, to show he means no harm, but gives nothing more to the conversation falling around him. |