Crabs?! Giant crabs?! That definitely sounded like a creature from his worst nightmares, ranking right up there with ponies and Bambi.
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Ooc — Bryndel
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It started out as a determined trek up the Skybowl mountain slope early in the morning. One foot after another, toiling stoically upward; this mountain-trekking stuff was serious business. This only lasted until Driftwood began to encounter the first patches of snow, further up, however: a glimmer appeared in his gold eyes as he turned his head eagerly to and fro, taking it all in, and his tail lifted up and began an undignified wiggling, one that only strengthened as he reached larger and larger patches that made a most satisfying crunch beneath his feet. He inhaled deeply, and his tail beat even faster as a smile spread across his face. Crisp and invigorating and beautiful. He could certainly see why the wolves of the island had chosen to stay here, on the wide skirts of the mountain that had such a breathtaking natural feature as this as its crown.
As he brushed past a fir that was still laden with the last of its wintry burden, the tree jumped at the sudden touch and whipped away from him in affront, leaving behind a clump of wet flakes that landed right on Driftwood’s head. He yelped and jumped a little himself, the snow sliding down his forehead and leaving behind an undignified wet snail-trail behind it, spiking up his fur just a little into a small, lopsided Mohawk along the way. He shook his head and worked his jaw for a moment, trying to get used to the sensation, then sprang suddenly back at the little green fir with his paws akimbo, air-snapping and whuffing low in mock-threat as he danced around the tree. Then just as suddenly he went springing away, jumping straight toward a larger snow patch in the shade of a thicker-trunked tree. He danced from one spot to another, shoving his nose eagerly through the crust of every splotch of snow he came to and then tossing each muzzlefull high into the air. Who said it had to stop snowing just because it was Spring? Driftwood was the wolf god of weather, never one to let a little thing like the natural order stop him!
His wide grin left his long pink tongue lolling out as he floundered zig-zagging around and significantly slowed his upward progress. The grin hardly faltered even for a moment, not even when he tripped and sent his whole front end plowing into one of the largest snow patches. He got up and shook himself off still-smiling, not bothering to take notice of the furrow of dirt he’d uncovered or the way a little of it clung to his once-buttery-cream chest. He lolloped gleefully along quite heedless of where he was going or how fast his tangled path of pawprints was getting him there. He only slowed when the last rise faded into sight, the cold mists retreating just enough for his eyes to glimpse the nearest horizon and his nose to catch wind of the clear cool waters above. Then he had to pause his antics for just a minute to make properly appreciative note of his surroundings once again. He flicked an ear at the mist-muffled chirping of a still-sleepy bird that was shortly answered by the lower twittering of an even grumpier one nearer-by.
As he brushed past a fir that was still laden with the last of its wintry burden, the tree jumped at the sudden touch and whipped away from him in affront, leaving behind a clump of wet flakes that landed right on Driftwood’s head. He yelped and jumped a little himself, the snow sliding down his forehead and leaving behind an undignified wet snail-trail behind it, spiking up his fur just a little into a small, lopsided Mohawk along the way. He shook his head and worked his jaw for a moment, trying to get used to the sensation, then sprang suddenly back at the little green fir with his paws akimbo, air-snapping and whuffing low in mock-threat as he danced around the tree. Then just as suddenly he went springing away, jumping straight toward a larger snow patch in the shade of a thicker-trunked tree. He danced from one spot to another, shoving his nose eagerly through the crust of every splotch of snow he came to and then tossing each muzzlefull high into the air. Who said it had to stop snowing just because it was Spring? Driftwood was the wolf god of weather, never one to let a little thing like the natural order stop him!
His wide grin left his long pink tongue lolling out as he floundered zig-zagging around and significantly slowed his upward progress. The grin hardly faltered even for a moment, not even when he tripped and sent his whole front end plowing into one of the largest snow patches. He got up and shook himself off still-smiling, not bothering to take notice of the furrow of dirt he’d uncovered or the way a little of it clung to his once-buttery-cream chest. He lolloped gleefully along quite heedless of where he was going or how fast his tangled path of pawprints was getting him there. He only slowed when the last rise faded into sight, the cold mists retreating just enough for his eyes to glimpse the nearest horizon and his nose to catch wind of the clear cool waters above. Then he had to pause his antics for just a minute to make properly appreciative note of his surroundings once again. He flicked an ear at the mist-muffled chirping of a still-sleepy bird that was shortly answered by the lower twittering of an even grumpier one nearer-by.
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Messages In This Thread
It's a Marshmallow World - by Driftwood - April 24, 2018, 10:16 PM
RE: It's a Marshmallow World - by Moor - May 06, 2018, 10:59 PM
RE: It's a Marshmallow World - by Driftwood - May 08, 2018, 11:16 PM