@Tuwawi, backdated to May 11.
Edit: Conclusion added for archival purposes.
Edit: Conclusion added for archival purposes.
After a day and a half of leaving no stone unturned in his avid search for medicinal herbs, Razo was reassured well enough to go looking for the Creek’s expectant mother with a few stalks of Ironweed between his gleaming teeth. He roamed the interior of the territory exclusively now, but although he’d located a couple of dens he remained eluded. However soon she might be due to birth her litter, she would likely have taken up more frequent naps and avoiding, as she should, the borders and any other potential causes for stress in general. All of this was necessary for her, but presented a right pain-in-the arse for him just then.
His right ear twitched backwards idly as a low call was issued far away for every new recruit, including himself. That ear flicked straight forward again as he prowled on, disregarding the call with purpose and entirely pleased to have the excuse. He could borrow someone else’s class notes later, but what he was doing now was more important and he had no need to argue about it. A female scent rife with hormones wafted to him on the warm breeze only moments later and his case was justified as could be.
Languidly walking on, he came to an earthen-dug den heavy with the same scent. Turning his path into an arc outwards, he stopped at what passed for a tactful distance away. He let the Ironweed fall to his feet then and lowered his head and neck, letting forth, as softly as he could, an unavoidably guttural woof in the direction of the den’s mouth. She might be inside, nearby or elsewhere entirely, but this was the most probable place in which to cross her path.
It would have to wait, as it turned out. The minutes wore on and she neither emerged from the Sveijarn den nor returned to it, so with that, Razo left the uprooted plant waiting where he’d sat with limited patience and the intention of coming back around later in the day.
His right ear twitched backwards idly as a low call was issued far away for every new recruit, including himself. That ear flicked straight forward again as he prowled on, disregarding the call with purpose and entirely pleased to have the excuse. He could borrow someone else’s class notes later, but what he was doing now was more important and he had no need to argue about it. A female scent rife with hormones wafted to him on the warm breeze only moments later and his case was justified as could be.
Languidly walking on, he came to an earthen-dug den heavy with the same scent. Turning his path into an arc outwards, he stopped at what passed for a tactful distance away. He let the Ironweed fall to his feet then and lowered his head and neck, letting forth, as softly as he could, an unavoidably guttural woof in the direction of the den’s mouth. She might be inside, nearby or elsewhere entirely, but this was the most probable place in which to cross her path.
It would have to wait, as it turned out. The minutes wore on and she neither emerged from the Sveijarn den nor returned to it, so with that, Razo left the uprooted plant waiting where he’d sat with limited patience and the intention of coming back around later in the day.
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Stork and owl - by Razo - May 19, 2014, 12:14 PM