Post by Deleted on Nov 24, 2012 5:14:38 GMT -5
ooc: It's rambly, and rather boring, but I'm still getting used to his character. :3
The grass was cool beneath his furred paws. His pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as he panted in the shade, the canopy of leaves above his head dappling his reddish coat with variegating patches of light and dark. He lay on his belly, his hind legs tucked neatly beside him, fringed by the thick brush of his tail. His head turned this way and that as he lazily observed his surroundings, relishing the feel of a full belly. Alyan had managed to catch a squirrel earlier, and was quite proud of the feat. Squirrels were notoriously hard to hunt, being quite cautious rodents that rarely ventured far from their trees. At the slightest sign of danger, they would dash out of reach, leaving the frustrated hunter to watch them mournfully from the base of the tree. But the one Alyan caught had lingered too long before attempting to get away, and his teeth had closed on its small body before it knew what was happening. Now he licked a paw and attempted to clean some of the blood from his muzzle, running his tongue along his chops. Later perhaps, boredom would hit and he would grow restless, but for the moment, he was content. It was a lonely life he led, alone in the world with no one to watch his back, but he got along fine. It was not natural for a wolf to choose this path, the existence of a loner, but it was all he knew. His mother had been a pack member. But she'd been driven out to protect him, because he shouldn't have existed in the first place, being the result of an unauthorized pairing. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to join a family of wolves, but in some ways, he was afraid of what would happen. He knew so little about his own kind. The only time he'd truly felt companionship with another wolf was when he'd had Sadron as his friend, but that didn't last long. What would Sadron want him to do? What would he say to Alyan today? The red wolf often thought about his childhood buddy, as though keeping him alive in his thoughts would bring some shadow of the dead youngster back. Alyan had no other friends, and wasn't sure how to go about making any. It wasn't a concern of his, but sometimes he did wonder at the wisdom of a life spent entirely alone, with no one else to talk to or hunt with.
He let out his breath in a slow sigh and pulled himself to his feet, pushing his paws forward as he languorously stretched. He disliked the taste of stale blood in his mouth, and was truly beginning to feel thirsty, so he padded slowly over the grass in search of water. His reddish coat was thin compared to some of the hardier Northern breeds, but it meant that he didn't overheat in such hot days as this here in I'queyer. The wolf traversed the grassy plain in an easy trot, his large ears alert to his surroundings, tongue hanging as he panted the heat from his body. It was a fine, warm day in this territory, even despite the dark grey clouds that loomed in the distance. There was likely to be a storm later, but Alyan didn't worry - he was sure to have found cover long before it hit. I'queyer had been plagued by quite a bit of rainfall these past few days, and today had turned out sunny, but it didn't appear that the weather would be fair for much longer. At least he'd managed a hunt earlier. His prey disliked wet conditions as much as he did, and he was glad that he'd taken care of his hunger before the storm began. It probably wouldn't be here for a couple of hours though, so there was still plenty of time to enjoy the sun. He accelerated into a lope, his skin sliding smoothly over bone, muscles relaxing and contracting in perfect rhythm. Alyan was naturally enduring; it came with being a wolf. He was, however, unusually tireless thanks to his lonely lifestyle, having only himself to look after. Long hours of steady movement pulled excess fat from his frame, it built up his heart strength and increased the efficiency of his breathing. He spent much of his time on the move, going this way or that for new game, never staying in one place for too long. I'queyer was such a large land that it didn't matter that he never stepped beyond its boundaries; why should he, when he had everything he needed here? There were times when he felt curious about the rest of Anikira, and wondered what it would be like to meet new wolves, but he always shied away from these dangerous musings. He would never admit it, but he was afraid. It was safer to be on your own. If he grew attached to anyone, what if another accident happened and they died? He couldn't take the horror of losing another friend.
The sun was teasing the edge of the horizon when Alyan arrived at the stream. Shooting a quick glance around, he lowered his head and lapped at the water. He wet one forepaw and rubbed his muzzle with it until he could no longer taste or smell the blood of his most recent kill. If he didn't keep himself clean and tidy, he would have a harder time sneaking up on prey. Absentmindedly he laid down and began to lick his paws, but froze when he heard a suspicious noise. His ears came up, his body was still, and he relied on his senses of smell and hearing to gather information. Someone was nearby, and it smelled like another wolf. Slowly, Alyan returned his paw to the earth and rose to his feet, the hair on his ruff prickling. His stance was defensive, but he was not at all inclined to attack; more likely he would flee if danger presented itself.
The grass was cool beneath his furred paws. His pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as he panted in the shade, the canopy of leaves above his head dappling his reddish coat with variegating patches of light and dark. He lay on his belly, his hind legs tucked neatly beside him, fringed by the thick brush of his tail. His head turned this way and that as he lazily observed his surroundings, relishing the feel of a full belly. Alyan had managed to catch a squirrel earlier, and was quite proud of the feat. Squirrels were notoriously hard to hunt, being quite cautious rodents that rarely ventured far from their trees. At the slightest sign of danger, they would dash out of reach, leaving the frustrated hunter to watch them mournfully from the base of the tree. But the one Alyan caught had lingered too long before attempting to get away, and his teeth had closed on its small body before it knew what was happening. Now he licked a paw and attempted to clean some of the blood from his muzzle, running his tongue along his chops. Later perhaps, boredom would hit and he would grow restless, but for the moment, he was content. It was a lonely life he led, alone in the world with no one to watch his back, but he got along fine. It was not natural for a wolf to choose this path, the existence of a loner, but it was all he knew. His mother had been a pack member. But she'd been driven out to protect him, because he shouldn't have existed in the first place, being the result of an unauthorized pairing. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to join a family of wolves, but in some ways, he was afraid of what would happen. He knew so little about his own kind. The only time he'd truly felt companionship with another wolf was when he'd had Sadron as his friend, but that didn't last long. What would Sadron want him to do? What would he say to Alyan today? The red wolf often thought about his childhood buddy, as though keeping him alive in his thoughts would bring some shadow of the dead youngster back. Alyan had no other friends, and wasn't sure how to go about making any. It wasn't a concern of his, but sometimes he did wonder at the wisdom of a life spent entirely alone, with no one else to talk to or hunt with.
He let out his breath in a slow sigh and pulled himself to his feet, pushing his paws forward as he languorously stretched. He disliked the taste of stale blood in his mouth, and was truly beginning to feel thirsty, so he padded slowly over the grass in search of water. His reddish coat was thin compared to some of the hardier Northern breeds, but it meant that he didn't overheat in such hot days as this here in I'queyer. The wolf traversed the grassy plain in an easy trot, his large ears alert to his surroundings, tongue hanging as he panted the heat from his body. It was a fine, warm day in this territory, even despite the dark grey clouds that loomed in the distance. There was likely to be a storm later, but Alyan didn't worry - he was sure to have found cover long before it hit. I'queyer had been plagued by quite a bit of rainfall these past few days, and today had turned out sunny, but it didn't appear that the weather would be fair for much longer. At least he'd managed a hunt earlier. His prey disliked wet conditions as much as he did, and he was glad that he'd taken care of his hunger before the storm began. It probably wouldn't be here for a couple of hours though, so there was still plenty of time to enjoy the sun. He accelerated into a lope, his skin sliding smoothly over bone, muscles relaxing and contracting in perfect rhythm. Alyan was naturally enduring; it came with being a wolf. He was, however, unusually tireless thanks to his lonely lifestyle, having only himself to look after. Long hours of steady movement pulled excess fat from his frame, it built up his heart strength and increased the efficiency of his breathing. He spent much of his time on the move, going this way or that for new game, never staying in one place for too long. I'queyer was such a large land that it didn't matter that he never stepped beyond its boundaries; why should he, when he had everything he needed here? There were times when he felt curious about the rest of Anikira, and wondered what it would be like to meet new wolves, but he always shied away from these dangerous musings. He would never admit it, but he was afraid. It was safer to be on your own. If he grew attached to anyone, what if another accident happened and they died? He couldn't take the horror of losing another friend.
The sun was teasing the edge of the horizon when Alyan arrived at the stream. Shooting a quick glance around, he lowered his head and lapped at the water. He wet one forepaw and rubbed his muzzle with it until he could no longer taste or smell the blood of his most recent kill. If he didn't keep himself clean and tidy, he would have a harder time sneaking up on prey. Absentmindedly he laid down and began to lick his paws, but froze when he heard a suspicious noise. His ears came up, his body was still, and he relied on his senses of smell and hearing to gather information. Someone was nearby, and it smelled like another wolf. Slowly, Alyan returned his paw to the earth and rose to his feet, the hair on his ruff prickling. His stance was defensive, but he was not at all inclined to attack; more likely he would flee if danger presented itself.