Lake Rodney i will fly

lost to the festering disappointment of the dismal night, with no sugarspun moonbeams nor starlight to guide or entertain him kharybdis remains unaware. a poor habit for an ex-warchief. a poor habit that, in the lands where the spires reigned with ironteeth and uncompromising victory upon their neighbors for resources ever fostering enemies, it would've meant his death. or, less dramatically, a huge disadvantage. though he is far from the lands of his birth, he nevertheless fosters the same suspicion of strangers, made only more distinct by the fact that his 'fluency' in common was hardly fluent at all.

perhaps his older brothers had been hazing him with their teachings; stringing him along to think he knew it when he knew no different. for sure he knew some things but if the past few days were of any indication acclimating himself here would be a persistent challenge.

left to his woes and thoughts, he does not hear the approach of the snowbird as she flies towards him until she has come near and the crunch of snow underfoot is picked up by a swiveling ear. his head snaps in her direction, but he is placated immediately by her gender and the natural instinct to bristle his hackles is rapidly cooled and quelled.

his diverts his eyes from her almost immediately, though took quick note of the glacial color of her eyes and soft creams and striking blondes of her pelage. his ears flutter back against his skull, the itch to chuff out a greeting strong but bitten back by too many cuffs to his muzzle ( that bear a few faint teethmarked scars ) for speaking to women before being addressed.