Swift River picking up pieces

Borlla sniffled as she woke up from her accidental nap. Sun peeked quite obviously through the distant entrance, and the three-month-old stomped around on the flat dusty earth. She'd somehow ended up in here while wandering around the denning site, sniffling at the ground, practicing her tracking skills, which still weren't very good, at all. At some point, she'd probably just passed out, her wacky internal clock going into nap mode.

But, why did she need a nap? She was a big girl, she wouldn't get cranky. No, Borlla was never cranky. Well, unless you decided to tuck her in for a nap she didn't even want to take. She did feel a bit better though. As if she actually remembered what she felt like before going to sleep. Now throughly covered in a thin layer of reddish dust, she emerged from the stone pile, and quickly jumped up a few of them, until she was the tallest one around. Who was big now? Her dark eyes searched for anyone around, as they would be the suspects on her list.

Where was Niija? "I bet it was Niija," Borlla grinned and mumbled to herself, wobbling unsteadily on the stones for a moment, before awkwardly tumbling to the ground again.

(This post was last modified: Aug 17, 2010, 12:08 AM by Borlla.)

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Let me know if you'd rather Ink not be here. <3

<b style="font-size:12px; font-family:georgia;">The masculine ruffian wasn’t naïve when it came to pack borders and sometimes wondered how exactly they all did it, working together, when he couldn’t even stand the presence of another for more than ten minutes. Maybe it was the way he was raised—every wolf for themselves and stick together only in a time of need—or it could have just been a passed down personality trait though he didn’t really know if it had just come from either parents or one in particular. Even his younger sister was quite emotionless like him but that was to be expected. Ink had seen a few of the River folks walking around the neutral grounds but had never once chosen to talk to them in fear that they might convince him to join their cult. However, Ink joined no one’s cult due to the expansive insecurity that he didn’t like seeing respectful bowing unless he was the one it was being given to.
Though, he certainly could not help the fact that he wanted to sniff at the borders to see if anyone would come running at him. Inkheart was an unobtrusive fellow that believed in the rules of these so-called packs and thus didn’t want to be an enemy but rather just a neutral guy who never chose which side to be on. Taking a few long strides away from the border of Swift River, he sat himself down by the closest shade of the tree and lifted his muzzle to sing a deep, baritone song. This howl wasn’t meant to draw anyone from their dens or to bring anyone forth for a conversation but out of pure wolf instinct to communicate through song.

(This post was last modified: Aug 19, 2010, 02:36 PM by Inkheart.)

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nah. it's totally fine. his avatar is adorable, btw.

Lifting herself up from her embarrassing tumble, Borlla sat, back legs splayed out in front of her, front paws centered, perfectly together, between them. It was definitely more uncomfortable than it looked, and her face grew more contorted with the sheer awkward pressure. She was undeniably thankful when she heard the howl of another, and was freed from her bored sitting.

Her tracking skills were still no good; she was too little. But she certainly had no trouble hearing, and circled around the stone den to travel into the forest. Her short legs got her to the Swift River border quickly, and she spotted a wolf beneath a tree. "Hey mister!" Borlla barked, still on the safe side. "Did you make that noise?" Her entire posture was curious, leaning forward, directly focused on the wolf beneath the tree. Of course, she was curious, but still trying to keep herself out of trouble, which was almost as painful as sitting with her legs all stretched out. There wasn't any fun without a little trouble, but being so close to Swift River, she thought it best to just keep her paws on the right side as long as she could bear.

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Much time hadn't transpired since Spooks was newly inducted into Swift River. He had spent some time around the pack territory exploring the vicinity over the past few days, enough for him to know the general lay of the land. At the moment, he meandered along the marked borders of the territory under the pretense of patrolling for intruders, when in actuality all he was doing was trying to look for something interesting to catch his attention.

Apparently fortune had deigned to smile upon him that day as a howl rose up in the air a short distance away from his location. Ears pricked and green eyes alight, Spooks bounded towards the origin of the sound with an extra bounce in his step, slowing down as a black figure loomed up a few feet from crossing the invisible boundary . . and another smaller cream-colored being who appeared to be newly arrived. As he neared, Spooks soon recognized the small puppy as Borlla. "Hey Borlla!" he called to her, tail sweeping side to side in a gesture of happiness to see someone familiar. But the other stranger was unknown, and from his scent, wasn't a pack member. "And who are you?" he demanded, his tone a bit pushy, but not aggressive as he approached, eyes alight with curiosity.

Thank you :)

<b style="font-size:12px; font-family:georgia;"> It was strange to be created by such a high-pitched voice which made Inkheart feel like some sort of squirrel had answered him instead of a young pup. It had literally been years since he had come into contact with a child and, weird enough, he had forgotten how small and immature they were. It had been a good thing but now he remembered it all quite well. Ink did not acknowledge her hello but instead just nodded his head in regards to her question. Who else made that sort of noise outside of lands? Neither squirrels nor birds made that specific noise so it could only have been him. Kids these days were way too uneducated.
Borlla was the young child’s name and had been delightfully given to him thanks to the black and white crested older male. Clearing his throat after deciding it would be alright to give his name after the brute demand for his name. <b style="font-size:12px; font-family:georgia;">“Ink,” he replied in a simple abrupt voice but didn’t even move—he had no reason to move closer than he already was. There were plenty of feet between him and the two of them which was how it should be since he had no reason to be all up in their space. Even if Inkheart liked a good ruction, he decided that it wasn’t worth it—not today at least.

(This post was last modified: Aug 19, 2010, 02:37 PM by Inkheart.)

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Pawing at the territory line, Borlla leaned forward even more, not pleased by the wordless answer she'd been given, despite the fact that it simply answered her question. "Well..." She snorted, sitting suddenly, looking utterly displeased, though she wasn't even sure why. A familiar voice came to her ears, and she twisted around, spotting Spooks. Why was he here? Her breath caught her in throat. Did he really sneak in? How long had he been wandering around? "Hi!" Her tail wagged a bit faster than she could handle.

But the attention was turned to the stranger again. "Ink? That's a funny name." She blinked a few times, rising up to her paws once more. "So, how'd you make that noise, Ink?" The girl tilted her head to one side, trying to work it out in her mind. She'd tried to do that before, but it had never come out sounding like that, or even any of the noises her older siblings made. She cast her lightening eyes on Spooks, "Can you make a sound like that?"

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Ink? Spooks waited a bit for the stranger to elaborate more but no more information seemed forthcoming, much to his disappointment. A small frown on his face, he sized up the newly-named Ink with a pointed gaze, a bit unhappy to realize that this guy was fairly large much like Indru and thus bigger than his rather diminutive size. But the stranger didn't appear to be harboring any intent to tresspass or anything of the sort judging from his still position, but still, it would be a good idea to stay alert and remain on their side of the border.

The monochrome yearling seated himself, white paws digging into the loamy earth floor of the grove. His gaze turned to look at Borlla with her question. Howl? Of course he could - all wolves were capable of making such a noise, although obviously there was variation depending on the individual. "Of course I can!" he asserted a bit proudly, as if being able to howl was an accomplishment of great achievement. "Can't you?"</blockquote>

<b style="font-size:12px; font-family:georgia;"> Little tiny Borlla had just rocked Inkheart’s world in a way that he had never even begun to fathom—could puppies not howl? The thought intrigued him but he certainly couldn’t remember a time when howling had ever been a problem. Or maybe he had just been forced to at a very young age and thus learned immediately to blend into the rest of the pack. <b style="font-size:12px; font-family:georgia;">“With my throat,” he admitted with a quizzical expression written on his mug having had very little experience with younger wolves and thus finding himself in the middle of a rather stupid conversation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk but rather that he didn’t practice social skills.
At least the yearling knew how to howl but he certainly didn’t need to be cocky about his accomplishment. It was simply something you learned to do, evidently, and this wolf had been taught where this Borlla had not. Fiery orange eyes glanced to Borlla, waiting to see if she would try to utilize that voice of hers and attempt to do the one thing that wolves instinctively knew how to accomplishment at a certain age.

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The young wolf looked at both males as if they were crazy. She never said she couldn't howl. Her question was merely how you did it. Her attention was first turned to Spooks, and she huffed, looking slightly worried, her tone not completely convincing, "Well, of course I can! I just wanted to know...How." Worry turned to embarrassment, and she finally stepped over the line, taking a few brave steps towards the aptly-named, Ink.

"I know where the noise comes from, but whenever I try to make a noise like that..." Borlla sucked in a big breath, and promptly let out a noise that sounded a bit like she'd been stepped on, but it was getting within range of sounding, well...Normal. "See!" Further proof that she was little, and she certainly didn't like it. "Is it cause I'm little?"

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The stranger looked bemused at the topic currently at hand, as did Borlla as she stared at both of them. Spooks stared blankly back, somewhat confused. Okay, so Borlla did know how to howl, so what exactly was she asking them to elaborate on? Question marks practically danced across his mind as he tried to understand what the small cream-furred puppy meant before she extrapolated more on her question. Everything fell into place as Borlla gave an attempt at howling.

It was a howl alright, albeit high-pitched and squeaky. Spooks bit back a small snicker at the amusing sound. "Oh, so that's what you meant. You're still little, that's why," he affirmed, "Too bad for you~" There were certain perks to being older, and the ability to howl an "adult" howl was one of them, among other things. Although, Spooks thought privately, that once you hit past 4 years you went downhill from there, not to mention that there appeared to be a direct correlation with age and the grumpiness syndrome. </blockquote>