Haunted Wood deep woods hide saints of another kind

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?”