Wolf RPG

Dusty Rose was settling in among the willows the way he settled in anywhere: with relish and aplomb, and no small amount of noise-making. Most of it was singing in his odd coyote way: shrill and sonorous in turns, with much yipping and baying to punctuate more salient points.

He was burying a bone. And old one! But one he rather liked; one he had taken for himself from a past meal the willow wolves had shared before he came to be one. It sat beside him in the snow while his shovel-like paws carved through the frozen earth exactly the way a piece of paper wouldn't. While he worked, he sang,

"Coffee grows in white-oak trees,
the river flows with brandy,
the rocks in the hills are covered in gold
and the girls are sweeter than — shit — candy.

He'd dashed his paw against a rock, and he extracted it to lick fussily at his smarting toes. His song was just a little mutinous when he went on:

"Shady Grove, my lil' miss,
Shady Grove my darlin',
Shady Grove, my lil' miss,
I'm goin' back to Harlan,

Here, the coywolf added a few cackling ow-ow-ow's for flair.

Each morning when she woke, she sat and groomed all of the dust and the tangles from @Boone's fur. She cleaned his wound and applied fresh herbs. She brought him water. And when that was done, she parted to hunt for him, rarely ever bringing him food from a cache. There was a comfort in this routine; comfort in the knowledge that he needed her.

But every morning, when she finally finished this series of tasks and parted from their den for the day, she found somewhere quiet and sat down to cry for a time. He needed her. But she needed him, too. She needed to rest, and she couldn't, not while there was so much to be done. Kukutux had told her to rest.

Reverie tried not to think too much about what would happen if she did not.

She was searching for a place to weep in peace when she heard the song through the trees. It halted her in her tracks, ears pulled forward to listen intently. Oh, she did love to hear others sing!

And the girls are sweeter than — shit

Reverie couldn't help but giggle at that. She followed the sound and found Dusty Rose digging a hole in the snow, and giggled a little more at the sight of him. Sweeter than shit, hm? That's a low bar, She teased lightly, tail swaying. What're you digging for? Looking for treasure?

His ears pinged up, and so did the rest of his body a half-inch or so, like a cat that has just seen a cucumber stalking up behind it. A scolding little cackle was softened by the wheeling of his brushy tail, but he still showed her his teeth in a wide gape just for a moment. This was not wolf language, and Dusty Rose did not mean to threaten except in jest.

"You oughta announce yourself," he grouched, but his tail had not stilled, and there was a coyote grin on his face. "I'm burying treasure, as it happens. When we thaw out, the kids can hunt’m up. We'll tell 'em they're dragon bones."

He smacked the bone with his paw, sending it skittering into the shallow dish.

"Whatcha up to, Shady-girl?" he asked her, glancing over to shoot her a smile as he began scraping dirt back over the bone. "Time for another dance lesson?"

The kids. Her kids. The thought sent a small thrill through her even as she giggled at Dusty Rose's startled reaction and good-natured grumbling. Dragon bones; she'd never heard of that before! Nor had anyone ever called her shady, and Reverie couldn't help but wonder about it.

Still, she was always easily distracted by any mention of dancing. Only if you're ready for it! Reverie rejoined with eyes sparkling. She hadn't quite forgotten her curiosity, however. But what's a dragon? This was something she had to hear about, she was certain. Her tail waved merrily as she awaited his explanation. She wasn't sure if she was more excited by that or by the prospect of teaching Dusty about dancing.

The coywolf was almost always ready for some movin' — what else was he gonna do with these legs? He picked one up as if in demonstration, only to set it down again when he was questioned. Dusty Rose did an admirable job then of keeping a straight face.

"Big-ass bird lizards," he supplied, burying the bone with one last little pat-pat. He straightened, turning to face Reverie more fully. "You don't see them much, these days. We oughta count ourselves lucky."

With anyone else, he would've talked about their fire-breathing qualities — but he wasn't altogether sure Reverie wanted to think about fires.