Swiftcurrent Creek "Fools", Said I, "You do not know."

Black limbs of kissed shadows. Blue eyes of sky. He moved through the pack lands. His fur on edge, his body wound tight like a bow string. So many women, so many season's. Good Lord. It was enough to drive him to drinking were he a human. Even his meditation only helped a miniscule amount really.

Granted he could probably go seek them out, but by the scent of intwining scents and movements. Akavir was taking care of most of them himself.

All Arric could think was Well dayum. Talk about a whore house, and the top leader, the top wolf, a gigolo himself.

Now most wolves would be jealous, but Arric was more along the lines of maybe that will get the stick out of his ass and he'll be alright for a bit. A good old fashion tumble, or two or three. Maybe he'd lighten up. Did Arric feel a little left out. Sure, but it wasn't so terrible that he felt he needed to do something. He'd already sowed some wild oats he didn't necessarily want a repeat of that disaster. 

So instead he found himself near the river and hit the ground with a loud umph and lazily let his paw drift in and out of the river. On his side he lay and looked up, taking up more than his fair share of land. After all he was a beastly male, a behemoth really and sometimes he liked to stretch out.