Haunted Wood deep woods hide saints of another kind

WC: 491

Slanted, mahogany eyes turned up to see the fox, still perched lazily on the bough of the tree, and regarded him with a warmth the fox did not expect. The fine, fiery fellow assumed that the creature had to be dog, at least in part- to have such distinct, distinguished features and a ribcage meant for taking in deep drags of air. He wasn’t offended at all, and seemed instead to be flattered by the company he’d received, and the dog fox thought more highly of him because of his reaction. Wolves were generally all too quick to react with hostility toward him- not necessarily an unwarranted emotion, given the fact that he did enjoy pilfering from stashes and raiding caches if they’d been placed too close to the borders, but in the end, it wasn’t like he was ever going to harm a wolf. Even their pups weren’t of any interest to him, and he knew better than to attack one. A fox would never have a case against a wolf, or any upper hand in a fight, so risking his life over a pup was nothing he was interested in. Of course, he was unaware of the fact that some wolves believed that all foxes would sooner or later carry the deathly rabies virus, as though they were all ticking timebombs waiting to explode. But any sane creature could tell from the clarity in the Todd’s gaze and the confident but straight swagger he walked with, that he was as healthy as he could be.

The long creature appeased the Todd’s sense of vanity by complimenting him, and with that, he was seduced. Turning on the branch, he practically slithered down the tree, coming down to the ground to be on equal stance with the dog-wolf, though still he remained close enough to the tree that he could easily leap back up to his vantage point if he needed to. He was willing to give the dark creature the benefit of the doubt for now, but he knew better than to place all his faith in a creature that could easily harm and kill him.

He shrugged one red shoulder. ”Whatever you want to call them,” He supplied. ”I suppose the locals have a name for it, as locals often do; but for a lone vagrant such as I, naming a location is fruitless.” He said. He travelled a fair bit, and all of his travelling had been done alone- therefore, he had no need for territory names. He found them to be something wolves fabricated to make it seem as though they owned the place. ”Tell me now, dog-wolf,” He said, the tone in his voice suggesting no criticism at the creature’s mixed heritage, ”Do you intend to join in with the locals?” He was curious. Would wolves allow a half-breed in their midst? Or would he be seen as a social outcast, as the fox would be?