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+--- Thread: Sequoia Coast The cow goes moo (/showthread.php?tid=8473)
The cow goes moo - Tempest - March 18, 2015
(I suck at titles)
@Reek
The silver toned fae had left her pack, if only for a short while. While she loathed to leave her friends and pack mates, she had felt the urge of adventure when she had woken up. Having never before seen the coast, her paws had led her here. She was glade she had come.
The hypnotic waves where entrancing, their lulling rhythm calming to the girl. Her worries were left behind, along with the jealousy she felt for Bindi. She had so desired that spot, to be beta. While Bindi seemed loyal at the moment, who knew what times would bring? If she were an alpha, she would have waited and gotten to know her subordinates better before choosing a beta. But she wasn't, so she would have to suck it up and deal with it.
She sat in the sand, cold salty waves washing over her paws. Beside her was a pretty shell, something she would bring back for Fitz and his future pups.
RE: The cow goes moo - Reek - March 19, 2015
Each step was a little easier than the last. The ragged wolf's limp was becoming much less pronounced in the week following their unsuccessful raid, but the ragged bastard's mind was still in a flurry. He played possible scenarios in his head, over and over again, making slight changes, but each time the Ankyrans came short. DuskFire would retaliate... he was sure.
His near empty herb cache was the gaunt wolf's first priority. A healer is no good with just words alone. Unfortunately, however beautiful Ankyra was, it was relatively inhospitable to most plant life, which forced the broken bastard into traveling long distances for the chance of finding something... anything.
Reek set out on the coastline toward the south-east, a direction he had yet to take in his month on the coast, in the hopes that it would provide him with a medicinal bounty. Just as he was beginning to tire, he spotted a silver toned female dipping her paws in the water and staring out to sea. It reminded him of his first time gazing out into the blue abyss. How it consumed him. Herbs could wait.
Living under the iron paw of the sirens could be difficult, especially adhering to their strange social rules. The talkative bastard was bound by laws of the tongue, to speak only when spoken to and to always be submissive/respectful, (though he rarely followed these rules, which ended with stern reprimand). "What's a pretty wolf like yourself doing all alone?" The bastard chided across the beach with a sardonic smirk. The bastard chomped at the bit for conversation without social constraint... a real talk. Wouldn't that be nice?