Stavanger Bay 8 dogs 8 banjos (Optional Packtivity)

Quick posts to get all of my threadlogs up to date. ♥ I am sorry for the lack of quality and length.

Sand, Lotte decided immediately, was nothing like snow. The granules between her thickly-furred toes were sticky and coarse, though not necessarily unpleasant. She marveled at the way her prints held for only the merest of moments before the water swallowed them up — the way her paws sank into the sand further inland but were palpably sucked under where the surf made rhythmic love to the shore — and she kicked up her soot-stockinged legs as she loped merrily toward the gathering of wolves. They were an odd assortment of creatures, and Lotte made a concerted effort to catalogue each face and scent, endeavoring to gather as much information as she could before returning to the trees and forest paths that she now called home. Tipping back her skull, she called heartily for @Lærke and @Dagfinn — for although Dagfinn was not a member of the forest pack, what better way to celebrate a “Den Night” than with a trio of talented bards?

She felt no trepidation in being the first of her kin to arrive and keenly assessed her audience. “Rakeet, comrades!” she called out joyfully, her melodic alto preceding her broad steps as she stepped into the gathering — and into her role. Catching sight of a small child whose ochre eyes glimmered with shyness, she assumed an expression of warm reassurance and dropped to her belly. In her accented timbre she questioned, “Little one, shall I sing for you?” She wiggled her eyebrows comically as her argent eyes sparkled with friendliness — it was a huge greeting for such a tiny cub; perhaps she just needed a little encouragement to come out of her shell. Without waiting for a response, she began humming, her rump wriggling — she had no qualms about playing the clown’s role if only it would cheer the girl and bring a new current of excitement and joy to the evening.

“Sweep, sweep away the cobwebs
that cloud your heart and mind with fear!
Little soldier, wayward princess,
you are safe from monsters here.
Hush, hush the rush of worry
that steals your joy and locks your feet!
Tiny fighter, shadow dancer,
lift your voice, drum a beat!”

Lotte beckoned invitingly to @Chusi, her look of invitation drawing @Arturo in as well. “Shall you dance, small one? Maybe you could teach your handsome friend how.” Perhaps Arturo himself was a dancer — Lotte didn’t know — but seeing the silver-dappled girl so shy and withdrawn tugged at her heartstrings.