the harbor is teeming

with commerce and crime

“I do not tolerate weakness, I do not accept weakness into my pack.” He went deathly still as her crown dropped, the heat of her breath on his throat sending gooseflesh across his skin. Dark ears rose as she spoke, listening intently but otherwise not moving an inch. “Clearly you would not be a good diplomat nor a watchmen to protect the border. What use would you be to the pack?” There was a lightness in her tone that caught his attention and he straightened as she withdrew her head, black eyes narrowing in thought. He was no warrior - Zophiel knew he didn’t have the temperament for that - nor would he be successful in the art of healing. He contemplated the other roles different members of Spirane had taken, mulling briefly over the thought of being a spy for Asteraia but quickly dismissed it - what use was a spy that couldn’t tell what secrets he had learned? He could, of course, be a hunter but where he could keep up a steady pace for a while, he wasn’t very quick. It struck him suddenly and he scolded himself for being so oblivious - who was as sneaky as a spy but didn’t have to speak? A thief!

He rose suddenly with a wave of his tail and backed away from the border, offering the woman a quick grin before turning and disappearing back into the forest. What could he steal in the middle of winter? Zophiel thought back to what he had observed on his trek towards the border, pausing next to a barren tree. He glanced at the sky, eyes lighting on an empty, exposed bird’s nest. He stilled, a slow, incredulous smile spreading across his face. A bird’s egg! As quickly as the smile had spread, it dropped into a contemplative frown. Most birds laid their eggs in the spring and summer - but, hadn’t he heard from a passing loner that there were owls who laid eggs in the winter? The dark male paced back and forth, searching his memory for where those birds nested. In the forest, certainly, but in what tree? He made his way through the trees, keen eyes on the lookout. It was a tree that didn’t shed it’s leave during the winter, and there were plenty of those, but which type? He was nearly ready to give up when a tree off to his left rustled a bit and then went still.

Zophiel stilled, hardly daring to breathe as his eyes focused on the tree as it rustled again. He crept closer still, hardly caring to mask his noises - after all, he wanted an egg, and that’d be much easier to get if the parent wasn’t there. He peered into the tree’s thick branches cautiously, jerking back as the owl’s head rotated nearly all the way around to stare at him. Steeling his nerve, Zophiel shoved his body into the branches once, twice, until the bird gave a startled noise and fluttered out, wheeling towards him. His teeth clinked together as he snapped at it’s wings, ducking safely away from the wicked talons on each thrashing foot. He lunged up at it again, teeth snapping near enough to it’s wing that it fled. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Zophiel made his way to the other side of the tree and pushed a branch out of the way with one overly large paw. Grinning to himself at the sight of three eggs nestled into the feathers, he carefully reached his muzzle in to pick one up. It took him a moment to rearrange his teeth around the fragile object in his mouth, but he wasted no time in returning to the border once he had it settled.

He approached swiftly, tail swinging lightly behind him as he carried his prize back. He lowered his head, both in greeting and to gently lay the now slightly wet egg at the woman’s dark paws. Zophiel lifted his head as a furious screech echoed through the woodlands behind him, and he dared to meet the alpha’s eyes, his own dark pair crinkled with amusement as he waited expectantly for her reaction to his answer.

zophiel

mute | male | no soul & no heart | homeless