It was early morning, the woods still wreathed in tendrils of mist the peeking sun had yet to chase away as it languidly began its slow ascent into the sky. Normally Spooks would have been sleeping, but just the previous day he had happened across Heartleaf Creek. Unfortunately the sun had begun to set by the time he located his newfound discovery. Disappointed at missing a chance at being able to try a paw at fishing, Spooks sulked and slept fitfully the whole night, unable to rest with his thoughts filled with the prospect of fishing.
As his paws sank into the muddy bank of the creek, Spooks peered in, wide-eyed and delighted as he distinguished shadowy figures of fish swimming about within their liquid domain. He hadn't ever fished before, but the yearling reasoned that it must be relatively similar to stalking small prey, such as rabbits and the like. For someone as talented as he, it had to be a piece of cake! Spooks lowered himself into the crouch, green eyes practically boring holes into the swimming fish as he searched for a target and found one - a medium-sized specimen that had strayed particularly close to the water's edge.
The monochrome male darted forward into the water, churning up a terrific splash with his paws as he plunged his jaws into the water where a fish just was, snapping to find . . . nothing but water in his mouth. He scowled. This was harder than it looked.
Neither of them seemed to buy her excuses, which was a little disappointing but hardly surprising. Junai was all talk and in a competition, bragging and exaggerating did little; this, unfortunately, was not a competition of quick wit but of physical prowess. (Unfortunately, some would comment that Junai was lacking in both departments, though that was neither here nor there.) The only relieving part of her failure was that her opponent wasn't much better at the sport than she, leaving her to retort quickly, “Oh shush. I think I did better than you did, mister.” Not that her attempt had been much better than the monochromatic stranger's had... But Junai liked to think that she was considerably more competent than some weirdo who liked to prance around in the wee hours of the morning.
Over-inflated egos aside, there were more pressing matters to attend to—such as who Patches was. (Seriously, what was with those whack-o white splotches? Junai secretly wished she looked cool like that, a desire she masked with insults and indifference.) Either way, deciding she might as well be somewhat cordial and answer his question before posing her own, she replied, “Junai Tainn of Swift River.” She vaguely recalled Indru telling her to be more wary of strangers, to be careful and blah, blahh, blahhh. For the time being, it was not a primary worry in Junai's mind, who was far more concerned with seeming cool and collected than worrying about some scrawny boy's hidden motives. (Not that he was much smaller than her, but it was peculiar for Junai to encounter anyone her age smaller than her; not to mention, most of the guys she had ever met had been brawny, not short and thin and admittedly sleek.) What was more interesting than any darker intentions he might possess was the smell he had upon him (she had not cared to noticed before), all too familiar and comforting and...
And wrong. It did not fit with him. It did not fit with anyone but the Tainn family—not even Honijo Ithil was welcome to wear a perfume such as her. The thought that a stranger, an alien in nearly every way possible (aesthetically, at least), smelled like that, like home, like family... She wanted to bite him. Hard. More importantly, she wanted to bite Indru. Harder. He was a traitor, recruiting strangers with unknown motives (his words, not hers) into Swift River. A variety of emotions flashed across her face and she seemed torn between fury and wanting to run away screaming. It was too early in the day to start up with such emotional crap and, after deliberating for a moment, her tail lashing from side to side in clear irritation, she figured it wasn't Patches' fault that he had joined Swift River. He had wanted a pack and had sucked up to the closest idiot of an alpha he could find; Junai almost wondered if Ioni or Ruiko would have been better suited for alphaship in times like these. No matter... She would chew him out later. In the mean time, forcing herself to breath deeply and slowly, calming gradually, she asked, “And just who are you, my... dear new pack mate?” It sounded wrong, improper. He wasn't family, he was a stranger. A pack was a family unit, not a motley group of acquaintances. No. If not for this one little hitch (and probably a few others), she might have actually tolerated the fishing wolf's company. But now? It would prove to be difficult, that was for sure.