for we don’t care about it

Morgan · February 13, 2019, 02:02 PM

Damn it, it was cold. Trying to piss in winter was already depressing enough, but when his irritation at his pecker being problematic had come to a halt, Morgan had wondered what had stopped it. But then again, the breeze blew, and smacked the ruffian right in the face, again and again. It was carried into the direction of the woods, and though he was runnin rounds bout the place, the breeze hadn’t been much of a bother to the brute. But here and now, it kept pokin him, insisting somethin was up.

It snatched his dome and shoved his eyes across the mound before the forest, and in the gleam of the moonlight, there it was. A triad of unknown beasts, all three of em staring right this way. Cry had warned him of his old posse, a natal pack that had somethin ta do with Nightmares or somethin, but he had told of all of them being black. Morgan squinted and tried to decipher all the colors of the staring folk, and couldn’t tell much other than them breathing and staying stock still.

Knowing it it would be best to let Cry know of these aiming folk, he snuck off and got the attention of the dark posse leader, directing him to look at that group. Once Cry had noticed em, Morgan nodded and whispered in his rough baritones, “imma be back- gonna grab @Laroche to see if he’ll watch perimeters with me. Dunno if they gone be backtrackin or scoutin for weak spots.” And with that, Morgan padded off, keeping his ear aware of what was going on with Cry until he was out of earshot.