October 22nd; Nearly midnight; Broken Clouds; 46.4 ° F, 8 ° C.
Since returning to Pookastone Scowle, Skoll had had dancing visions of a little white-furred creature the woods when he slept in the unbearably bright morning hours. It was cautious at first in the shape of a hare, staring at him with luminous sun-glow yellow eyes, presumably judging every move his dream-world self took. Tonight, it was bigger and much more cunning as a fox. It yipped at him, but he remained at a respectable distance and could only watch as it spun about in a playful circle before vanishing into the dark. Another bark sounded out, but this time, he awoke from his slumber, startled mostly by the fact that it was already dark with the dawn still several hours out of sight.
The starless sky greeted him through the trees when he looked up and took a deep breath. It was just a dream...
He rolled his stiff shoulders as he leaned forward and back. Perhaps he hadn't needed all that sleep after all. With a staggering gait, he sluggishly patrolled out from his and Celandine's den toward the Lagoon; and, all the way there it was quiet along the borders. The Weir, however, was different. The water there was still and the quiet was much more uneasy than it was at the den. He stalked closer to the water, head low and ears as tall as he could manage.
A few gulps of water helped clear his head and as he settled down on his rump at the water's edge to enjoy some piece of quiet, that familiar sound came again. An eerie scream. It jolted his muscles and made his ears ring several seconds after it had sounded out. Sphinx-like and stock-still he waited, but nothing came. He stood up again, eyes wide and tail lifted in the air. One step was taken in the direction where the shriek had reached him through the Scowle; he instinctively let out a raspy howl, a calling card of sorts to any pack mate or rogue that might be nearby.
Are you all right?!
He scowled to himself. Wow, that was stupid. If it had been his daughter... well, if it had been Vaeda... Midnight black paws started eating up the ground, but he ultimately circled around and back to the Weir. While there were several familiar scents about, none were as fresh as his... His right ear fell lax as he waited again, wondering and waiting for any sound of struggle, another scream, or otherwise. If someone had meant to scare him, they had succeeded, but he was not going to stand idly by and become prone to any more antics.