I up and left this town

Weather:
12 ºF, -11 ºC
Freezing Fog

Thick fog snaked through the snow-laden trees surrounding Chanim. In his jaws, the hind leg of a mule deer yearling. He had found the carcass earlier that morning, picked at by some smaller predators. By the looks of it, the yearling had been eliminated by the long, hard winter. This unfortunate end however, marked a good note for Chanim. The find provided not only a meal, but more importantly, a larger portion of flesh that he could carry. The young wolf continued forward, his jaws quivering slightly from the taste of deer blood in his mouth. It had been several hours, and the earlier snack wasn’t nearly enough to fill a hungry wolf, but the leg in his mouth wasn’t for him. This was going to be Chanim’s best chance at finding a new pack, at least until after mating season. He had wandered many miles from his birth-pack; many hungry, painful miles. Although the idea of being submissive was hardly appealing, the promise of food, shelter, and pack-mates would always be more important. The lone wolf still understood that not every pack offered the same chance at that prosperity, but, this far from home, every pack would be the same: completely unknown. Chanim slowed to a stop right as the trees began to thin out. The scent of the resident pack was strong here, marking the edge of their territory. He placed the deer haunch on the crunchy snow and let out a long howl. And now all there is to do is to wait.

(This post was last modified: Mar 06, 2015, 03:07 PM by Chanim.)

A howl rang out from the borders and Maksim Baranski raised his head slowly, ink-tipped ears pricking as he took in the call. A wolf seeking the leaders. A lone male. Swift to sound out a call of his own, his low tone gave its own distinct message: We have heard. The Mackenzie giant turned, wasting no time in quickly shifting into a jog. He wasn't too far from the loner's position, perhaps five minutes maximum. And if it was not the river king who arrived first, it was one of his subordinates. Pushing onwards, he raised his tail in preparation, head held high as if to display the crown sat neatly between his ears. To think, not too long ago, he was den ridden and weak ...

Maksim smelt the wolf before he saw him, and the offering he carried. His earlier beliefs were confirmed: a loner stood at his borders, specifically a young male, with a gift, no doubt to curry the king's favour. A smart move. Slowing as he approached, the Baranski father spoke up with a stoic tone, words directed to the loner in order to break the ice and any tensions. "It has been some time since a loner has come calling at my borders." Halting wolf-lengths away, the Mackenzie male gave the young lad a once over; he was a dark fellow with hints of copper and rust threaded among the greys and creams. In all honesty, the loner reminded Maksim of his son, Orren. "What business do you have with the wolves of the River?"

(This post was last modified: Mar 07, 2015, 10:37 PM by Maksim.)

we are shining in the rising sun, as we are floating in the blue