Post by Uruviel on Mar 17, 2009 16:34:24 GMT -5
The arctic brute wandered down the peak of the Kinath, his paws searching for steady footings as he jumped to solid ground. Glancing up, he watched the sun rising, its rays warming his coat as he trotted off through the trees towards Nyspoli's Pool. He had a mission to secure his territory, and he would not rest until he was assured that there were no more unwanted visitors within the borders. Stretching his neck upwards, the brute spotted the pool in the distance and picked up the pace, his paws lightly pressing against the earth as he galloped towards the defrosting water.
That last femme had simply rubbed him the wrong way. Xinelil did not know why, but he had a bad feeling about her, even if she was young and not an apparent threat. He generally had a good sense about himself to pick wolves for what they really were, and he did not have a good first impression of the femme. It was a time of crisis in the lands, and wolves believed it would be smart to waltz straight up to the dens of a lively pack and ask to join? The etiquette that he had been taught as a pup simply did not exist anymore. There was a such thing as pack borders, and no one realized that claimed territory meant to keep out unless invited. He would have to stop sympathizing with all these wolves. After what he had done to Athena, he would have thought it would be easier to deal with these wolves, but not so much.
Xinelil gazed behind him, awaiting the arrival of Kuna and Meikou. Hopefully they would not be too far behind. But while he was waiting, it would not hurt anyone if he fished, would it? He approached the water's glossy surface that was still covered with the thinnest sheet of ice. He poked it with the tip of his black nose, shattering the glass into millions of pieces that spiraled and swooped into the water below. He watched, fascinated, as a few guppies drifted to the surface and poked their tiny mouths up to gasp in some surface air. They were tiny, so the brute would not bother to swipe at them.
It seemed that the wolves were not the only ones who had been waiting for the arrival of spring. It had been so long since he had emerged from the dens and taken a moment to look at his home. Inhaling deeply, the brute searched the air for any signs of other wolves, unfamiliar and familiar alike, swirling in the breeze. He found none. Reassured by that, he focused on the hole in the ice and waited. There were sure to be other fish that would rise to swallow the bugs that were now skittering across the surface of the water. It was patience that he needed now.
Only a few minutes had passed before a rainbow trout, its scales glittering brilliantly in the sun's rays, drifted upwards and jumped after an insect. Xinelil's reaction time was acute; with a quick swipe of his right forepaw, a claw slashed the fish, snaring it onto the claws and upon the shore.
The trout flopped futilely for a minute before lying and gasping for breath, its gills fluttering angrily. Xinelil watched it, fascinated, and waited for a chance that would not be cruel to enjoy his meal. It was only another minute before he tore at the flesh, the head and meatless fins disregarded as he gulped the pale meat of the fish. It was satisfying, enough to hold him over for a while at the very least.