Haunted Wood deep woods hide saints of another kind

Dark clouds loomed overhead, creating a darkened earth beneath them. The wind whispered through the trees with voices of spirits tailing on the ends. Amid the fallen leaves and weathered bark was a creature who appeared not to belong to such a place. The delicate frame of his body would leave one wondering how he had come upon the wilderness where he stood.

Cavendish stepped daintily through the leaves, casting his pale gaze from side to side in a sweeping manner. His features were tight but pleasant. The curve of his frame seemed to accent the softness of him, adding a supernatural air to his physical being. More a ghost than anything corporeal. He moved through the fall environment without care and without wariness.

WC: 837

Fleet of foot, the fox feathered his way through the fallen leaves with a nimble grace befitting of a creature as splendid as he; or, in the very least, of a creature who felt he was as splendid as the Todd did. His shining black nose was held a few inches off the ground as he tracked this way and that, moving in a zig zag pattern as foxes often did which might have led others to believe that the dog fox was extremely indecisive. He wasn't, really- it was the mouse whose trail he was tracking that hadn't been able to make up its mind as to where it was really going, until it found its way back to its den. The small hole in the ground was no match for the Todd's claws and swift digging paws, but he wasn't so sure it was worth the effort this time- when he lowered his head and tilted it to the side, allowing the cup of one ear to listen attentively for sounds coming from inside the hole in the ground, he deduced that this wasn't merely a den but the beginning of a tunnel system; the mouse could very well be quite far away from that point, disappeared down some other tunnel or having found its way out, along the ground again, and then down into another tunnel. For now, the little creature was safe, but that didn't stop the Todd from squatting and urinating near the tunnel's entrance, leaving behind his scent both to petrify the mouse the next time it came out that way, and as a reminder to himself should he pass that way again that that particular hole in the ground wasn't exactly worth investigating. He kicked at the dirt with his hind feet in a stiff, irritated manner, leaving behind a few scuff marks just for visual reference. He'd have to find a snack elsewhere, as this mouse wasn't worth digging for the rest of the day.

He licked his lips as he carried along, bright, rust eyes watching for any sign of movement in the distance until he saw something he found quite peculiar. He was quite used to seeing wolves around in these parts- the wilderness was practically saturated with them- and most of them considered him to be the vermin...The audacity! Regardless, he saw the figure in the distance just over the edge of the horizon, but with his keen sight (though he did have to squint a bit to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing) he thought perhaps that this wolf was a bit...Odd. A ghostly colouration to its pelt, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Even his own cousins to the North had a white pelt, though he didn't find them to be nearly as handsome as he was. They had shorter snouts and turned an ugly brownish colour in the summer. The red fox, he stubbornly maintained, was the finest of them all. There was something different about this wolf, though, and the Todd watched from his safe distance, picking up on all the subtle differences that made this fellow so striking.

His legs were long and supple, lean and lissome and gave the Todd some cause for concern; while he could out-maneuver and sometimes out-run a normal wolf, this one looked exceptionally fast, especially with a deep but narrow ribcage meant for taking in great amounts of oxygen and displacing it to its muscles as it ran. Its ears were softer, its coat perhaps a bit longer and more flaxen than that of the wolves the Todd had seen recently, as they'd begun to put on a thicker winter coat. But perhaps the most striking feature of all about this creature was the shape of his head; the Todd couldn't judge whether it thought it looked absurd or beautiful, and finally settled on a judgement that the length and softened edges of the male's muzzle made it look pensive and wise...But despite that, and despite the eery beauty that hung about him like a misty aura, the Todd couldn't help himself.

He crept forward, and found himself a place where he would be safe; perhaps not the most traditional perch for a fox, but with a movement deft and swift, he charged the trunk of a maple tree and with a few bounds, made his way several feet up the trunk and onto the lowest bough. From there he leapt to a higher one, until he felt himself safe from harm from the tall, magnificant, long-faced wolf. He eyed the canine with a cheshire grin, and allowed himself to sink into a more comfortable position, laying down on the bough with one elegant, black-tipped leg dangling off the branch. He couldn't help himself, so he expelled air through his clenched teeth, creating a high pitched whistle to catch the ghostly fellow's attention before he spoke with a voice full of mirth. ”Why the long face, chap?”

A voice...

It seemed as though the noise had fallen from on high. The willowy creature turned his head, peering intently toward the sound of it. It did not take long before the hound caught sight of a fiery red coat and a sharp snout that sported his Cheshire grin. At once, Cavendish felt at ease.

Foxes were divine creatures, and capable of many things. The length of his tail wavered between his hocks, allowing the fiery trickster room to feel at ease. Though he might have been a predator, the hound was not interested in claiming the life of one so special. He felt as though he had been touched; the conversation with the fox would lead to something great, there were no doubts. Even though the initial inquiry had been one that directly questioned the wolfdog's features, the young prince was not offended in the slightest. No, he was quite enthralled with his companion.

“Why, I do believe I was born with it,” he answered in an airy tone. A smile crept along the thin dark line of his lips, curling his narrow features and crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Then, as if to accompany his ethereal sculpting, Cavendish felt a sweet chuckle rise from the back of his throat. He shook his head once, knowing that he was nothing like the others in that world – that he was different.

Latching his argent gaze to the sharp little creature, the prince canted his head just slightly to the left.

“Tell me, handsome fox... what are these lands called?”

WC: 491

Slanted, mahogany eyes turned up to see the fox, still perched lazily on the bough of the tree, and regarded him with a warmth the fox did not expect. The fine, fiery fellow assumed that the creature had to be dog, at least in part- to have such distinct, distinguished features and a ribcage meant for taking in deep drags of air. He wasn’t offended at all, and seemed instead to be flattered by the company he’d received, and the dog fox thought more highly of him because of his reaction. Wolves were generally all too quick to react with hostility toward him- not necessarily an unwarranted emotion, given the fact that he did enjoy pilfering from stashes and raiding caches if they’d been placed too close to the borders, but in the end, it wasn’t like he was ever going to harm a wolf. Even their pups weren’t of any interest to him, and he knew better than to attack one. A fox would never have a case against a wolf, or any upper hand in a fight, so risking his life over a pup was nothing he was interested in. Of course, he was unaware of the fact that some wolves believed that all foxes would sooner or later carry the deathly rabies virus, as though they were all ticking timebombs waiting to explode. But any sane creature could tell from the clarity in the Todd’s gaze and the confident but straight swagger he walked with, that he was as healthy as he could be.

The long creature appeased the Todd’s sense of vanity by complimenting him, and with that, he was seduced. Turning on the branch, he practically slithered down the tree, coming down to the ground to be on equal stance with the dog-wolf, though still he remained close enough to the tree that he could easily leap back up to his vantage point if he needed to. He was willing to give the dark creature the benefit of the doubt for now, but he knew better than to place all his faith in a creature that could easily harm and kill him.

He shrugged one red shoulder. ”Whatever you want to call them,” He supplied. ”I suppose the locals have a name for it, as locals often do; but for a lone vagrant such as I, naming a location is fruitless.” He said. He travelled a fair bit, and all of his travelling had been done alone- therefore, he had no need for territory names. He found them to be something wolves fabricated to make it seem as though they owned the place. ”Tell me now, dog-wolf,” He said, the tone in his voice suggesting no criticism at the creature’s mixed heritage, ”Do you intend to join in with the locals?” He was curious. Would wolves allow a half-breed in their midst? Or would he be seen as a social outcast, as the fox would be?