It felt like the skies were clear only a few moments before, but now that the sun wasn't so prominent amongst the water ripples, it was clear that the weather had changed. Like all things, change happened - sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but always to Skittles' own disliking. He disagreed with the reasons trees had to loose their leaves in the winter or even shed the ones that were falling off their branches. He disliked how his paws always seemed a little bigger and he especially was unenthusiastic about the fact that his body simply didn't feel as old as it was before. It was true, he could see it in his pelt and feel it in his energy levels. If there was anything that he didn't mind changing, it was the scenery, but only if it happened because of his own efforts. For example, if he put his paws in the mud, it would make sense and all would be fine and dandy if pawprints were produced. But if he tried with all of his might and his labor was in vain, then that would not make sense, and something would be gravely wrong with the world. Making mudprints was an important task that no wolf should ever neglect, whether a pup or an adult, the pleasure was always there. Or, for example, if he travelled, it would make sense that the trees whiz by him and the sounds of the old place fade out while the sounds of the new place rise in. But if he began to walk and nothing changed - the trees didn't move, and the place looked exactly the same, and even if he made sure to check if he was walking in place but was sure he wasn't, then, that would also be something very wrong with the world. In fact, that was an interesting scenario. What if he walked and walked and nothing changed? Would the world be stuck, would he be living, how would he eat, would he even need to? What if everyone were like that? Suck to walk in place wherever they were, all lonely like? It struck a chord with his current feelings, he did feel quite lonely, as if nothing he did here mattered and no matter how many feet he traveled, nothing really seemed to be very different, besides the scenery, of course.
Since he had gotten here he felt like he had only gotten bossed around. "This land me. Me. God. You. Pheasant. You starve, haha." seemed to be the general conversation that he always had. In truth, it was no different from any other land he had come across. But still, a man could only bear the attitude for so long before quickly becoming tired of it. Standing on the edge of the river, his paws were damp with the gurgles and splashes of the running water. There seemed to be enough prey to support a meager lifestyle, so... Why not claim this land for himself. As he gazed at the rushing creek, he gauged his bladder level. With a grim at his own cleverness, he set to work.
First stop, lifting a leg over the creek. That one didn't seem to work out too well, as the water simply carried his few drops of urine away. Undiscouraged, he marked the rock he had been standing on. The leaf a few feet away. A tree a few more feet away. Another tree. A low branch growing out of that tree, a pebble, a carcass... Oh, a carcass! He paused from his efforts and began to devour what was left of a mostly-eaten doe. After all, this was his land now, and he was half-way done marking it. Size meant nothing, after all, and this 100ft by 100ft circle-square thing of a very odd and irregular shape that he had made, it was his now. He was his own king, his own man, and for once, he was allowed to boss everyone else around, because it was his. Contentedly, he closed his eyes as he methodically worked the scraps of meat off of the bones, his mouth making contented eating noises of a peculiarly loud volume.
Sex: Male
