Glorall

Disaster has struck!
Flooding from the north has taken its toll on Glorall. The large tides combined with the increase in water draining from the Ruieze River has flooded the lower regions of the pack. The sandy soil, compounded with so much water, has toppled a lot of trees. Traveling is difficult even when the water is shallower, with the sandy soil below being difficult to find traction on. The daily tides seem to keep the level of flooding fairly consistent, too.

During the low tide, wolves may be able to move around the higher dunes (with some difficulty) but during high tide, the pack is almost impossible to safely navigate. Swimming is possible, but the risk of currants and surges from either the ocean or the river are very real. The island off of the coast of Glorall is untouched by either issue, although it is incredibly difficult to find your way there without being an adept swimmer with plenty of good luck!

Note: Glorall will reopen once 30 posts have been completed (or at Staff discretion). During this time, new threads will receive a 'Surprise','Disaster', and prizes. Glorall is currently not open for challenges.


THE HERE AND NOWALPHA OF GLORALL
Elohim

Return to Lunar Children
Wild Thing
IP: 69.113.246.138

Female age four imprint: none Loner


Raptor watches the alpha relax his stance a bit. Not so much that she had been afraid before, but unnecessary tension had been there, her brain warning of possible signals of impending doom. A twitch, a stiffness, a curled lip. She was not one to take assault lightly, had it come to that. Not when she had not offered insult or injury. But she is glad it has gone smoother. A brief low pendulum wag of her tail clarifies the relief at lessening defensiveness, odd lavender eyes flicking over him to read his body language. It was her first language. Her best language. She feared she would never be completely at ease with speaking.

She watches his shoulder shift. An opening, a possibility. Hope. Things that she felt had previously been lost. "Raptor" she replied. It was a fitting name, a fierce bird of prey with wicked talons and a death grip. Raptor could not fly, but in other aspects she fit her namesake well, as her mother used to point out the creatures, feasting on their catches, tearing chunks of meat from fresh bodies. She was proud of her name, its meaning.

Raptor also allows herself to lower her haunches to the dirt. Not tired, so much as reciprocating the gesture. She has traveled, but she is used to it, as a loner roaming is a normal part of existing. Brown fur is summer short and rough. It had never been a striking quality, for she preferred to run and hunt rather than bother to bathe or groom. It might not look beautiful, but it still protected her from the elements, and that was all it mattered to her. She might never when a beauty contest, but covered in blood was a better look anyways.

"No family" she adds after a pause, to clarify it is herself alone she speaks for. And a good suggestion as to why a so far successful (read: alive) loner might enjoy a pack rather than stay free.


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