Fireweed Rise succession

Early afternoon, cold warning, -40C/-40F

Back on the coast to coast life

& You know I live for the hustle

He had been heading North for long enough that Hellhound was growing bored of the direction. It was all the same as far as he was concerned, trees, rocks, rivers, lakes, bushes, fields, packs, random loners, good wolves, bad wolves, boring boring boring. He had left the homepack for some excitement for the lands of his grandmother and all her stories, and everything that had happened here. It turned out travelling alone was even more boring than being home.

Is this what his dad was so obsessed with? The constant roaming, of course he always had a harem of women with him… definitely something to think about. Maybe if he got a few hotties chasing his tail it would have been more interesting, at least from what he’s heard.

Great, more fields, nice rolling ones covered in ice and snow, combine that with the extreme cold that seemed to have wrapped him the last few days of his travel, he had made easier trips. Maybe a more sour wolf would have complained about the travelling conditions, but other than the crushing boredom Hellhound was fine with it. He slunk along like a fox, and from the far far distance you might even think he was one based off his coat. Where was the legendary Scowle? Where was the was, and the natural disasters, the crazy affairs, all of it?

Something kept drawing him to the rise, an area Moore had initially felt frustrated with, with all of the dips and uphills. Now, it felt as if there had been an attachment to the surrounding area. Maybe it was the idea he was finally setting down roots after the nomadic lifestyle; perhaps he just hadn’t given the place a chance. It was beyond him at this point; the man was just glad to see it with more open eyes now.

And what else did citrus eyes spot as they scanned the rolling knolls? A speck of russet moving through the snow, low to the ground, a distance away. Eyes narrowed to slits, slivers of pumpkin peering as his tail raised confidently. Dark paws carried him closer as he studied; the figure looked too big to be a fox, but what did he know? Maybe they got bigger out here than they did back home. It was more likely the figure was another wolf, but could he be too sure? If it was a fox, was he supposed to let the animal wander until it reached the Willows?

Questions rattled in his brain, and ultimately, he settled on the offensive. If there was a threat in the future, he couldn’t stand around and think this way or that over it; he was a man of actions. And so, he charged forward, large paws carrying Moore towards his target, the intent being to charge and scare, rather than full-on attack.

It wasn’t until it was a little too late that he could see the russet stranger was no red fox, and Moore attempted to stop his momentum, paws skidding through the snow as he plowed forward.

“LOOK OUT!”

The shout was loud and sudden, ripping out of a graveled throat in an attempt to warn the stranger lest they wanted to stick around for impact.

Back on the coast to coast life

& You know I live for the hustle

Hellhound was just minding his own business, musing about how bored her was when the strained yell of a stranger reached his ears. Maybe it was how long he had been traveling, but he was half convinced he had imagined it and was slow to react. Russet head swiveled to look towards whoever had called just in time to be smacked fully in the face by a spray of snow and ice. Before he could even process that impact, he was suddenly knocked off his paws as the strange collided with him full force.

Rolling over a few times in the snow, the man huffed as all the air was knocked forcefully out of his lungs. He skid across the icy surface for a moment, and moisture clung to his pelt in tiny snowballs, it was almost ridiculous looking really. Leaping to his paws the second the world stopped spinning, his tail flung above his back like a fiery banner. Teeth barred he barked out, ”what th' fuck do ye think ye're doin'?” Going around trampling strangers, is this how they did it in these parts?

Then again, a good fight would cure his boredom now wouldn’t it?

(This post was last modified: Feb 11, 2022, 02:04 AM by Hellhound.)

One way or another, the tumble and impact landed Moore on his back, as well as having sent the stranger wolf rolling. The world spun, causing him to shut his eyes tightly, attempting to dispel the spinning feeling of temporary vertigo. After a moment, he rolled over onto his legs, pumpkin eyes now open and looking at the man. A snort escaped his mouth before he clamped his maw shut to keep the chuckles in. Briefly glancing over himself, he found himself covered in snowballs and frost as well, and he couldn't help but laugh. At least they both looked goofy.

Where the stranger seemed angry, Moore just snorted, beginning to pick the snowballs out of his own fur after standing up. "Sorry 'bout that," he spoke through a mouthful of snow, before spitting it out. "Not usually th'way I greet strangers!" He laughed once more, and had the other man been close enough, he would have nudged him with a friendly shoulder bump. The man had no interest in a brawl, at the moment, having been in high spirits lately due to the pack he'd landed himself in. Regardless, his intense gaze remained watchful of the stranger, unsure what he'd do. "Gotta say, not my fault you're slinkin' 'round like a fox, though. Could barely see ya through all the drifts."

Where he had no interest in a scuffle, he wouldn't argue either. He'd let the situation play out on its own.