October 17th; Late afternoon; Mist; 24° F/-5° C
"When th'crip doors creak an' the tombstones quake,
Spooks come out for a swingin' wake.
Happy haunts ma-ter-ial-ize,
And begin ta vo-ca-lize...
Grim Grinning Ghosts come out to socialize..."
In all actuality, contact with humans should have left quite a horrifying impression on Tannis Andreas. What with their shiny nets, plasticky hands, bulbous white snouts, and confining containers. They had thought him to be rabid and dangerous; and, he had thought them to be firm and controlling. But, in the end, after he had been freed from that long forgotten monastery last autumn, he believed them to be kind - really, this opinion was only truly applied to the kind souls and experts who worked at a local animal control service - and they had given him the very few songs he knew. This one, sung on the outskirts of a neighborhood by a group of mini humans (specifically: children, dressed almost like bipedal bobcats and wolves) was his favorite.
It was catchy and actually had a tune, very much unlike the ones he made up on a whim or the ones he commonly used to soothe himself with. He knew better than to really indulge in it (every time he came to the part about "ghosts" he made certain to sing it in a whisper); goodness knows how much he hated ghost stories when he had been a cub. Perhaps it was better if he just hummed the song without words.
Since he had had come into contact with the Leader of the nearest pack he could find, he had been in a rather good mood; despite this, he still ambled about much like a cub who was afraid of heights - or using his own legs. Crawling about seemed to have worked in his favor though and what he nearly missed was something that made his stomach gurgle and churn.
Well, now what was this?
His ears temporarily perked and he took a few steps backward without even a missed beat in his humming. A dip of his nose and a bit of scratching and leaf scattering with both of his paws and what he dug up was a freshly caught hare. Its winter coat had just begun to grow in and, with the way it had been laid to rest in the cache, made it look like it had merely been sleeping there until he had found it. Laying right on top of the carpet of leaves that had once covered the hare's storage place, he quickly looked around - over his right shoulder, then his left, up the sky, behind him on his right, behind him on his left, then down to the rodent nestled between his paws. All clear through the mist... No Leader. No pack mates. This catch was meant for him. Since he had given Phineas the turkey he had caught, Tannis immediately figured this was what he deserved in return. It wasn't really that it was only fair, but rather: if he was going to be of use to the Argyris patriarch, then he needed sustenance to function as a full-fledged member of his pack.
What remained of the rabbit was not much. Tannis had reduced it to a stretched piece of bloodied hide and a skull. The pelt, he pinned down with his paw, but the skull... it would be something he very much wanted to hold on to. With the rough surface of his tongue, he began to clean it, oblivious in the meantime to anyone who might have watched him relish his Hallow's Eve treat.