http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v201/bluepups/NiosTable.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top: 205px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; text-align:justify;"> The boy showed his teeth to the wind, daring for a competitor. Each step being taken was full of pride and curiosity, nose to the ground and eyes to the sky. With the coordination of a new-born lamb, his overly large legs shook with each new pounce, the chance of toppling over quite high. His high dominant tail tilted to keep him balanced, somehow managing to change his entire weight. The little rascal he was, the boy was not interested in his surroundings, but more on how to destroy them, or what he could get out of them. His sparklingly white teeth shredded vegetation, seeing which ones tasted best. His claws left small holes in the ground, just for fun. Thick goopy slobber rested upon every inch of Copper Rock Creek thanks to the tyke, who was not distracted by sticks or rocks, but instead had his eye upon the entire territory. He was the reason only alphas had pups. The entire pack would have to watch over him intently to make sure he survived, and was not found dead head first in the water he was so hypnotised by. He leapt up towards the creek, chocolate brown paws pressed up against a hard stone. Had he had the strength, he’d have jumped onto the rock and looked over his kingdom. That though, wasn’t an option. Instead he was cursed to stand on his hind-legs and try to view it from there, a compromise that just didn’t fulfill his standards. He wanted more. Had Mirren or Vaeta been beside him, he’d demand they crouch down and do the job of a ladder. Whether or not his order would be met with agreement wasn’t important, if at first they did not accept, he’d jump on them anyways.
A frustrated exhale left the boy’s spunky lips, turning his back on the creek. For those couple seconds, it seemed he had given up on the whole attempt. Giving up was not in Nios’ personality. It was ten steps exactly before the pup did the impossible. Each step, each breath, it was all well planned, even from the mind of a toddler. Turning around with a vicious strike, the pup sprinted off, gathering momentum, leaping into the air at the last second, using the smaller rocks as a staircase. He had won. A smug smile wrapped around his face, the wind blowing a cooling gust upon his glittering fur. He positioned his paws regally on the stone as if he owned it, and after that risky event, he deserved it.
He was a smart little bugger. Unlike Mirren, he didn’t have the muscular build. Unlike Vaeta, he didn’t have the irresistible beauty. He was a street rat, with the monopolizing charm and clever instinct. Very much a social butterfly, with scruffy tangled fur and mysterious eyes, the pup lifted his neck higher in the air and let the wind blow back his chest fur. This was home. His future was unclear, the pup could choose from many lifestyles. At the age now where his siblings and he would have go through dominance fights constantly, the brown boy had the potential for greatness. It was just a matter of applying himself for it. While it was an odd sight to see such a small and fragile pup so high up and eager, it was humorous. He was a go-getter, a troublemaker, and the son of great leaders. It was in his blood to test the boundaries while he was still young, before he was treated like everyone else. He would take advantage of his youth while he had it, before the entire ranking system really affected him.
It was like he was absorbing the pack air, breathing in the only scent he knew, the odour of his family. He wore it proudly on his own pelt, looking over his entire world with unblinking eyes. The only movement throughout his body was the rise and fall of his scruffy chest, expanding, then releasing, each inhale deep and passionate. A handsome patch of fur stuck up right on the top of his head, like a mane, covered in dirt. The dirt didn’t make him look gross, it make him look rigid, manly, even for a child. One glimpse at him, and you’d know what he was up to. He was up to no good. It wasn’t hard to guess, the way his smile was tilted, the way his body adjusted to his environment, making this well-crafted home a dangerous playground. He wanted to experience it all, each thrill, each moment of fear and shock. Looking at him, you entered his world, his way of seeing things, not yours. He was at ease, so rough looking and free. He wanted to do whatever he pleased. He didn’t care about being a prince. He cared about being a kid, fast-thinking, instinctive, a warrior in training. He could do no wrong. Perched upon his throne, there was no wrong in the world, just him.
A frustrated exhale left the boy’s spunky lips, turning his back on the creek. For those couple seconds, it seemed he had given up on the whole attempt. Giving up was not in Nios’ personality. It was ten steps exactly before the pup did the impossible. Each step, each breath, it was all well planned, even from the mind of a toddler. Turning around with a vicious strike, the pup sprinted off, gathering momentum, leaping into the air at the last second, using the smaller rocks as a staircase. He had won. A smug smile wrapped around his face, the wind blowing a cooling gust upon his glittering fur. He positioned his paws regally on the stone as if he owned it, and after that risky event, he deserved it.
He was a smart little bugger. Unlike Mirren, he didn’t have the muscular build. Unlike Vaeta, he didn’t have the irresistible beauty. He was a street rat, with the monopolizing charm and clever instinct. Very much a social butterfly, with scruffy tangled fur and mysterious eyes, the pup lifted his neck higher in the air and let the wind blow back his chest fur. This was home. His future was unclear, the pup could choose from many lifestyles. At the age now where his siblings and he would have go through dominance fights constantly, the brown boy had the potential for greatness. It was just a matter of applying himself for it. While it was an odd sight to see such a small and fragile pup so high up and eager, it was humorous. He was a go-getter, a troublemaker, and the son of great leaders. It was in his blood to test the boundaries while he was still young, before he was treated like everyone else. He would take advantage of his youth while he had it, before the entire ranking system really affected him.
It was like he was absorbing the pack air, breathing in the only scent he knew, the odour of his family. He wore it proudly on his own pelt, looking over his entire world with unblinking eyes. The only movement throughout his body was the rise and fall of his scruffy chest, expanding, then releasing, each inhale deep and passionate. A handsome patch of fur stuck up right on the top of his head, like a mane, covered in dirt. The dirt didn’t make him look gross, it make him look rigid, manly, even for a child. One glimpse at him, and you’d know what he was up to. He was up to no good. It wasn’t hard to guess, the way his smile was tilted, the way his body adjusted to his environment, making this well-crafted home a dangerous playground. He wanted to experience it all, each thrill, each moment of fear and shock. Looking at him, you entered his world, his way of seeing things, not yours. He was at ease, so rough looking and free. He wanted to do whatever he pleased. He didn’t care about being a prince. He cared about being a kid, fast-thinking, instinctive, a warrior in training. He could do no wrong. Perched upon his throne, there was no wrong in the world, just him.