Shadewood Knackin’ for a Cracker, Smacking like a Snacker

long ago koro toro had accepted his lot in life; while he was no less bitter for it, he embraced his body's futility with a sense of what he believed was noble purpose. no amount of gnashing teeth or raging hatred would change it -- in other words..

it is what it is.

he looked up as a dark shadow stole over the ground -- a hale man was peering back at him, his expression inscrutable. koro toro shifted up to his elbows, regarding the male carefully. many wolves had seen him during one of his ambulatory episodes, and many wolves had chosen to walk him by -- after all, in the wild, you could never be too careful, and many had likely assumed him rabid or worse.

but this man offered help -- koro toro's ears pulled back, his eyes searching for guile in the icewater blue of cry's gaze. "no. i'm just tired." he half-lied, figuring his incompetent hind end would surely expose that being 'just tired' was a slight under-exaggeration. "it's worse when i haven't eaten in a while."