Skoll paid no heed to the sun or the moon; when his nose was lifted from the earth, he scanned ahead of him for specific objects. Not the landmark sort that drew the gaze of most; not mountains, not lakes, not great trees. No, the sleek wolf honed in on decaying logs, on flat stones and small round boulders that he could upturn or roll away. He slinked around them, dust billowing around his snout as he plied his nose to the edges that touched the ground. His senses were remarkably sharp, and trained toward minute smells that most wolves would not, could not, ply from their surroundings.
There, beneath a long, wide sheet of bark from an old tree, he caught the scent that he was looking for. He skimmed his nose along the earth until he had pinpointed the source, and in one smooth motion he slipped his nose beneath the bark and flung it aside. Revealed to him, coiled and hissing, was a garter snake. Skoll's fangs flashed and the snake was caught between them, writhing and snapping. It was a fat, long snake; an old female. His gratefulness, his honoring of such a find, was expressed in mercy. He did not toy with the animal, and it spent no more than a half second alive in his teeth before his jaws clamped together and crushed it.
Moments later, there was nothing but a strong musk wreathed around his muzzle to tell of his catch, and his head lifted to scan for the next pantry he might raid.
There, beneath a long, wide sheet of bark from an old tree, he caught the scent that he was looking for. He skimmed his nose along the earth until he had pinpointed the source, and in one smooth motion he slipped his nose beneath the bark and flung it aside. Revealed to him, coiled and hissing, was a garter snake. Skoll's fangs flashed and the snake was caught between them, writhing and snapping. It was a fat, long snake; an old female. His gratefulness, his honoring of such a find, was expressed in mercy. He did not toy with the animal, and it spent no more than a half second alive in his teeth before his jaws clamped together and crushed it.
Moments later, there was nothing but a strong musk wreathed around his muzzle to tell of his catch, and his head lifted to scan for the next pantry he might raid.
June 14, 2016, 06:50 AM
The sun had long set in the distance, but his paws carried him out of Saltwinter territory. The steady beat of his footsteps descending upon the eart fell in sync with his equally steady heartbeat, the sturdy sound soothing him into a quiet sort of ease. So he walked, letting the peaceful quiet of the wilds lull him into a trance, giving his control to wherever the winds wished he went. One after another, the solidier march of his legs struck against the rocks, against the earth, against the vast beauty that he stood on.
He walked on.
Around him, the sounds blurred into the backdrop, light flickering away into the darkness. He let out a sigh against the oblivion, for the calm night was where he wished to be. The sound of distant footsteps rang out, calm and steady, much like his own. Before long, the scent of old blood washed over him, but he ignored it in favor of studying the grounds. He had been here before, twice. But never in the night. The silvery wispy sheen from the moon shone down on the lands, illuminating the figure of a single wolf snapping forward to kill, it's form beautiful.
Slancio watched in subtle curiousity, masked behind cool indifference. The night was where he was the most alive, and tonight, his primal owl insticts were alert and high. The quicksilver wolf look another look at the midnight wolf finishing it's kill, and descended down his spot towards the other.
He walked on.
Around him, the sounds blurred into the backdrop, light flickering away into the darkness. He let out a sigh against the oblivion, for the calm night was where he wished to be. The sound of distant footsteps rang out, calm and steady, much like his own. Before long, the scent of old blood washed over him, but he ignored it in favor of studying the grounds. He had been here before, twice. But never in the night. The silvery wispy sheen from the moon shone down on the lands, illuminating the figure of a single wolf snapping forward to kill, it's form beautiful.
Slancio watched in subtle curiousity, masked behind cool indifference. The night was where he was the most alive, and tonight, his primal owl insticts were alert and high. The quicksilver wolf look another look at the midnight wolf finishing it's kill, and descended down his spot towards the other.
The flowers are in bloom as the birds will tell, it's a beautiful day to be burning in hell.
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