Sheepeater Cliff The hot girl in your comp sci' class

Whether it was because he was entrapped by the wheat pelted girl or the anxiety flooding his mind, Fig did not realize the other with them. Not till a growl slipped past a throat forcing his attention to snap towards them, lip trembling cautiously before he grasped it with an inhale.

He could of mistaken the beast as a Saint if ignoring the absence of swamp on her fur. The scars though—twisted and knotted flesh carved through tangled fur atop defined muscle, yellow eyes; It was always a look he would associate with that savage group. But why, he wondered, would such a stark difference of the two bring them together.

Was the golden bird a captive?

He was skeptical. "Im.. Fig," he returned in exchange, olive eyes never leaving the one introduced as Reign. "The sheep are uh, not here, I think.[b][/b]" The boy had never heard of such a thing. "What do they look like?"

He wiggled over a bit to allow the girl, only the girl, room to join him if wanted, paws tucking inward to make himself smaller as he halfway leaned off the plateau.