The tiny sheepdog cross’ strength was in herding and driving prey; her long, graceful legs and sinuous dexterity were made for sweeping over, under, around, and through dense flocks of milling, bleating ungulates. That the horns of the Nine were wicked and whetted to murderous points did not trouble her — she was swift, swifter than her mother or her father. In her haste to be away, she shifted her weight eagerly from paw to paw, every movement of the cloven-hoofed beasts causing her waiflike musculature to strain forward. One dainty paw curved beneath her ink-feathered breast as she ghosted forward a step, her Neptune eyes wide and glittering with the fanatic intensity of a blue-blooded herding dog.
The wolf who approached awoke something else in Coelacanth’s seablue eyes, something Szymon did not see: a flash of remembered terror that tore her attention away from the Nine with vivid alacrity. Tufted ears pressed demurely against her skull as she tucked her sumi-e brush tail firmly up against her abdomen and bundled her spindly legs to flee. “He is Ravus,” Doe’s mate breathed, his low, guttural whisper unintentionally soothing. The familiar sound of it coaxed Seelie’s tufted ears to unfold, centimeter by trembling centimeter, until they cupped attentively upon her crown. Her sensitive nose quivered faintly as she drew in the strange wolf’s scent, finding the same salt-and-iron scent Szymon himself bore, and she settled — albeit apprehensively. She was home now, and the Keeper was far behind her. Streamlined muzzle dipped low in greeting as a soft, toneless whine spilled from her lips; Szymon had named this wolf safe and the little Groenendael had no reason to mistrust him.
Somewhat feebly, her tail whisked willingness as she turned her attention once more to the Nine.
The wolf who approached awoke something else in Coelacanth’s seablue eyes, something Szymon did not see: a flash of remembered terror that tore her attention away from the Nine with vivid alacrity. Tufted ears pressed demurely against her skull as she tucked her sumi-e brush tail firmly up against her abdomen and bundled her spindly legs to flee. “He is Ravus,” Doe’s mate breathed, his low, guttural whisper unintentionally soothing. The familiar sound of it coaxed Seelie’s tufted ears to unfold, centimeter by trembling centimeter, until they cupped attentively upon her crown. Her sensitive nose quivered faintly as she drew in the strange wolf’s scent, finding the same salt-and-iron scent Szymon himself bore, and she settled — albeit apprehensively. She was home now, and the Keeper was far behind her. Streamlined muzzle dipped low in greeting as a soft, toneless whine spilled from her lips; Szymon had named this wolf safe and the little Groenendael had no reason to mistrust him.
Somewhat feebly, her tail whisked willingness as she turned her attention once more to the Nine.
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Messages In This Thread
너 없는 시간 속에 갇혀버린 나 - by Coelacanth - November 21, 2016, 09:10 PM
RE: 너 없는 시간 속에 갇혀버린 나 - by Szymon - November 21, 2016, 09:37 PM
RE: 너 없는 시간 속에 갇혀버린 나 - by Ravus - December 13, 2016, 07:12 PM
RE: 너 없는 시간 속에 갇혀버린 나 - by Szymon - December 14, 2016, 05:45 AM
RE: 너 없는 시간 속에 갇혀버린 나 - by Coelacanth - December 14, 2016, 06:28 AM
RE: 너 없는 시간 속에 갇혀버린 나 - by Szymon - January 01, 2017, 11:08 AM