Grizzly Hollow ten minute break

A quick southern jaunt led Woodstock to yet another pack. He did not want to take the first option that was presented to him, after all. No, he wanted to weigh them all and figure out which one suited him the most. He did not know if that would be the first pack he visited, but something told him to keep looking. Perhaps this one would be a better fit. Or a worse one. In either case, he would have some idea of which one was more his style. And if neither of them were, he would keep moving on until he found something. Not finding something was not an option for the young wolf. Sooner or later, he would have to join up with a crew. His livelihood depended on it.

Presently, he was stalking a butterfly. Not because he intended to eat it, but because it was something to do. Woodstock probably looked a bit like a child, frolicking just outside this pack's land, snapping at (and narrowly missing) the butterfly again and again. The insect danced from one flower to another, Woody hot on its tail. Finally, it paused long enough for him to pounce on it, and he lifted a paw to see the thing flattened against the ground. "Perhaps I should have let it live," he murmured aloud, but the thought was only fleeting. Motion in the direction of the packlands drove his focus there, and he stared intently in that direction. Had it been a trick on his mind, or had there been somebody there?

(This post was last modified: May 26, 2015, 04:54 PM by Woodstock.)

The young wolf was quite right. There was someone there. Sheltered by the cedar trees, and verdant brush. Someone watching closely with bio colored eyes, suspicion lining her pale mask. Why would someone play so closely to obvious borders? There was plenty of ground elsewhere, and he seemed a bit old to be chasing butterflies like a toddling cub. Though....he did not seem terrible old her nose noted. The agouti male may have been one or two, but he was a boy to the matriarch. Oh she knew better than to believe that made him an innocent. Especially as she witnessed him squash the butterfly to the ground. She had never seen a cub do so. It was as he spoke, about letting it live, did she creep a little further from the side of the tree, ready to make her move.

"Perhaps you should have," she commented, letting her voice give away her hiding spot if it were not already obvious. It was only with brief pause did she hold back, and than take a few steps closer to the silver colored wolf. Why it could be said her posture wasn't threatening, as she did not show teeth, nor have hair raised, her pulled back ears, and cool gaze might say otherwise. The pale lady  gave him a good stare, trying to figure if she should simply tell him to go or not. It had been a long time since she had welcomed others into her pack, but she easily recalled how it was done. She only wondered how necessary it would be. If it was much of her place any more.

(This post was last modified: May 26, 2015, 05:27 PM by Jaysyek.)

Ah, so he had not been imagining things. Her voice helped his eyes find her, and Woodstock pointed himself at the lady of the woods. She showed no signs of immediately kicking his butt, which was a godsend in itself. Woodstock was not sure he was up for that kind of a challenge, even if he might have had a fair shot at getting out of it alive. The last thing a loner like himself needed was a good butt-kicking. Mending while traveling was a recipe for disaster. Actually, it was more of a recipe for death. And Woodstock did not wish to die today. Not for a long time, really.

He took in her appearance as quickly as he could. She was more or less average, for all intents and purposes. He glanced at her eyes for only a fleeting moment, not wishing for such a gesture to be taken as a challenge. They were, perhaps, the most interesting bit about her. The right one was blue; the left one a shimmering gold. He thought it might be the first time he had seen such a phenomenon. How very peculiar!

"Pardon me," Woodstock replied, "Was it a friend of yours?" The glint in his golden eyes made it clear he was merely jesting, but he could not seem to help himself. "My name is Woodstock Brimstone. Recently a traveler, always a dreamer." He did not like to take himself too seriously. The world was much to droll with everybody doing so. Besides, what was life without a little bit of fun?

@Woodstock

The young wolf did not scare over the sight of her. One point for that. He looked upon her, he seemed to do so quickly, and respectfully considering. One point for that. It was more his voice that convinced her he could act his age, even if it seemed there was a hint of teasing in it.She was far from ready for banter. She couldn't remember the last time she had joked around with someone. 

"No, I only hope you don't make it a habit to kill without reason." She murmured, but did not smile. She could find no words to lighten the moment as he. Instead the white lady decided to give an honest answer upon her reason for her earlier words. Though she didn't think he was that sort of wolf. Least not yet. She did wonder what sort he was.

Ears drawn upon him, she took a casual step closer, not taking her eyes off him. It wasn't an intimidating stare, but she stared none the less. She had always been cautious, but now even more so in the state of things. "I'm Jaysyek Lyall of Grizzly Hollow." Kindly,she gave in turn though did not add she was the leader. This was an idea she was still trying to get use to again, and didn't exactly feel the need to point it out. Sitting down, with an off tilt of her head, an amused grin slid on the side of her muzzle. "A dreamer of what Mr. Brimstone?" She did not ask in mockery, only with interest. She had always had an interest in the stories of others. The time she had nothing better to do.

(This post was last modified: Jun 26, 2015, 02:37 PM by Jaysyek.)

A young deer has been separated from the rest of its herd. Hunt Opportunity