Oak Tree Bend King of Fools

“Of course Fero,” Vera chirped as she pranced happily over to the Skunkbush, eager to help Florence in any way she could and be useful while doing it. It always made her feel valuable and not someone who was worthless and couldn’t do the simplest of things. Some wolves thought that immediately just because she was so tiny, but she quickly proved them wrong with her sharp tongue and her knowledge of herbs that she knew.

Gently picking the berries from the bush, careful to not break the skin or crush any with her jaws, she collected two pawfulls and placed them on a large leaf, before using her blunt claws to scrape strips of bark, also placing them on the leaf. When she was certain she had collected a fair amount of her useful herbs, the diminutive she-wolf turned expectantly to her larger companion as he started to speak. Her ears twitched at his order – a foreign thing to roll off his tongue – but didn’t reply back with a snarky remark. She knew that he was only worrying about their safety, and when he was his words often became clipped, but they were never harsh.

As Florence grabbed the leg of the moose and began to drag it back to the den, Vera used her paws to fold the leaf into a bag shape that she could grab the ends with so none of the berries or bark could fall out and bounded after him. When she caught up to him, she slowed down her pace to an even trot, stepping much more carefully than she would normally as to not drop the bundle of herbs that was grasped tightly in her jaws. Her caramel brown eyes lifted up into the sky where the clouds had grown darker and more foreboding. It would not be a balmy evening.

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With his jaws clamped onto the leg firmly and Vera carrying the small leaf bag of berries and bark, small talk did not really happen as they made the trek back to the den. Thunder rumbled and threatened above them, a few small but fat drops landing on their fur just as they made it to the angular den. Shaking his fur as he lets go of the moose, casting his eyes upwards for a final time. "Why don’t you place those in the den until we can find the proper place to put them?” The suggestion was cast to Vera about the bag she was holding as he rolled his shoulders, as if the thought hadn’t concerned him and he was back to being the kind soul who gave orders like a lion who befriended something that was prey. It didn’t happen often. Florence wasn’t one to give orders often. That was Vera’s jurisdiction, as everything else that concerned being bold out there.

Florence preferred the quiet of his mind and to be patient, preferring to think slowly and methodically before doing or answering anything. Vera, on the other hand, was quick to anger and to jump into the fray, her legs stiff and her mind whirling with insults to be spoken on her quick tongue.

While the berries couldn’t survive the rain, the moose could survive however, even if the berries couldn’t and as Florence ducked into the den, the thunder gave one last warning before all the water the clouds had been holding had rained down on them.

(This post was last modified: Jul 20, 2014, 06:29 AM by Florence.)

They were both silent as they slowly padded back to the main den, each caught up in their own thoughts as the thunder rumbled above them and fat drops of rain started to plummet in small but fat drops to the ground. The diminutive ivory she-wolf nodded and carefully placed the bundle of herbs further back in the den where it was slightly raised so it wouldn’t get wet by the incoming storm, not the she didn’t mind to get wet. There was just something so free and wild about letting herself loose during a thunderstorm. She couldn’t explain the feeling she got when running through the pouring rain and letting everything slip through the cracks, it was just… amazing.

Ambling over to Florence, she rubbed her head against his shoulder, a rumbling purr in her throat. She loved to just be near him, it made her feel content inside, like nothing was, could or would go wrong. It was relaxing, listening to the sound of their breathing and the rain splattering on the ground, and watching it make small rivers in the wet soil. But like always, her moments of calmness didn’t last for long. Gently nudging his shoulder with her ivory muzzle, Vera grinned wolfishly and darted out of the den, past the moose carcass and out into the rain.

Yipping excitedly, Vera pranced around in the pouring rain, throwing her head back and leaping in the air to snap at the drops as they fell and rushing here and there like a silver bullet. She continued to dance in the rain until her breath came in short gasps and her pristine coat was thoroughly soaked. Only then did she shake out her fur and enter the den where Florence was watching her, an amused expression on his face. Tail tapping her hocks, the diminutive ivory she-wolf shook out her fur once more before padding over to her larger companion and cuddling up to his stomach. “Fero, Meus militis in nitidus armatus,” she murmured softly as she drifted off to sleep.

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