<font style='margin-left:20px;'>The</font> marbled gray's nomadic heart told him wandering was healthy. His large physique took to the ride effortlessly as his burly legs crawled atop the mountainous climb. It wasn't a climb, really. He was traveling southwards, leaping from step to step, cool water jumping onto his silvery pelt. He was well hidden here - oddly he could survive anywhere. Mitsu's gray fur managed well in all seasons except autumn. Lost in the foggy, mid-morning mist, he was nearly invisible, enclosed beneath the slew of waterfalls. He was unheard too. If he were to call out amidst the raging stream an echo wouldn't form to push his voice along. All at once he was completely alone, breathing the scents of nothing but cleanly aqua blue water.
<font style='margin-left:20px;'>There</font> were hundreds of peachy salmon dancing below the mossy rocks. Swiftly, they swam against the robust current, seemingly growing stiff legs and hopping from short fall to fall. Some wriggled between crooks, and others found holes to tunnel through the dense stone. Most were fresh, and plump with millions of eggs. Others were frail, slow, and pitiful to watch. The large wolf had killed off a couple at his first notice, but he realized there were simply too many ill fish to clean. His belly was extended already, hanging as he hurried through the wet air. He came here for exactly the reason, to quench his desire for water, and his trembling stomach. Mitsu had grown tired of the fawn, rabbits, and ground birds back in the Wildwood. The Falls were much more interesting.
<font style='margin-left:20px;'>He</font> took great note of his surroundings. His copper eyes flashing around when he wasn't watching the migrating fish. The sun, an enormous, hot sphere placed a shine on the water through the weak mist. The temperature increased slightly, but it was still chilly out. His soles were nearly numb from the spring's lack of fever. Most of all, Mitsu noticed the stair-like fall's drop becoming greater. Occasionally, his pads would give way to the forever slick bedrock, and he'd slip down rather than step. It was indeed a beautiful morning.
</span></span></blockquote>
healing hands of love, like the stars shiny shiny from above.
a hand in the pocket fingering the steel.
the pistol weighed heavy.
his heart he could feel was beating
a hand in the pocket fingering the steel.
the pistol weighed heavy.
his heart he could feel was beating