December 26, 2014, 07:55 PM
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Kierkegaard was not a man of manners. He had not been raised to treat others with respect, or to adhere to rules of courtesy when it came to those outside of his intimate group. When he caught sight of the pale female – her strange markings having gained his attention – he had followed her some distance until she began to hunt.
Winters were difficult. The ghostly male had found the lack of prey to be troubling. His hunting skills were strong, but he did not always have the luck of happening across creatures to catch. He had been fortunate up until he had taken Signe. Not only did he hunt for the pack, but he hunted for the inky pup. Without food, she would die, and though she would have died without his aid to begin with, Kierkegaard knew he was responsible for her wellbeing.
After having trailed behind the stranger for a short duration, she happened across her beaver. She had injured it well enough that it had died some distance away from where she had attempted to catch it. Narrowing his brows, the brute lowered his head to the earth and frowned. She was young, smaller than he, and she was alone; this was easily established in the amount of time he had shadowed her. It would not be difficult to take her catch. And he had no qualms stealing from the youth. It was a difficult world, and she would learn this soon enough.
Stepping forward, the male lifted his head and leered at the young girl with sharp golden eyes. “Fine catch,” he growled in a gruff baritone. The fur along his neck and spine stood rigid.
Kierkegaard was not a man of manners. He had not been raised to treat others with respect, or to adhere to rules of courtesy when it came to those outside of his intimate group. When he caught sight of the pale female – her strange markings having gained his attention – he had followed her some distance until she began to hunt.
Winters were difficult. The ghostly male had found the lack of prey to be troubling. His hunting skills were strong, but he did not always have the luck of happening across creatures to catch. He had been fortunate up until he had taken Signe. Not only did he hunt for the pack, but he hunted for the inky pup. Without food, she would die, and though she would have died without his aid to begin with, Kierkegaard knew he was responsible for her wellbeing.
After having trailed behind the stranger for a short duration, she happened across her beaver. She had injured it well enough that it had died some distance away from where she had attempted to catch it. Narrowing his brows, the brute lowered his head to the earth and frowned. She was young, smaller than he, and she was alone; this was easily established in the amount of time he had shadowed her. It would not be difficult to take her catch. And he had no qualms stealing from the youth. It was a difficult world, and she would learn this soon enough.
Stepping forward, the male lifted his head and leered at the young girl with sharp golden eyes. “Fine catch,” he growled in a gruff baritone. The fur along his neck and spine stood rigid.
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Messages In This Thread
I can show you incredible things - by Saēna - December 26, 2014, 07:40 PM
RE: I can show you incredible things - by Kierkegaard - December 26, 2014, 07:55 PM
RE: I can show you incredible things - by Saēna - December 26, 2014, 08:20 PM
RE: I can show you incredible things - by Kierkegaard - December 28, 2014, 02:30 AM
RE: I can show you incredible things - by Saēna - December 28, 2014, 02:26 PM