wrath

<style>.gaunt1 .ooc {font-style:italic; color:#494a43; } .gaunt1 p {padding: 0px 9px; margin:0px; text-indent:25px; } .gaunt1 b {color:#f8f8f8; letter-spacing:-.1px; } .gaunt1 {background-color:#000000; background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/gExQrZb.png'); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; } .gaunt1 .float {float:right; width:0px; height:10px; } .gaunt1 .text {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#4c4c4c; letter-spacing:.1px; word-spacing:.1px; line-height:18px; width:580px; text-align:justify; padding: 20px 20px 330px 20px; } .gaunt1-border {width:620px; margin:0 auto; }</style>

It seemed as though the other wolf would opt to speak up after all. More than this, though, the wolf actually rose from his morose position on the ground to approach Kierkegaard, who remained in the creek. The ghostly wolf turned his attention to the male from the pack and scowled coldly. The tone that had bene presented by the stranger were less than welcoming. Yes, Kierkegaard was frighteningly close to the pack lands, but his frame had not passed the markings made by the squirming creatures of the glacier. The Sairensu male found himself growing progressively agitated, both by the ache in his hock and the presumptuous creature that loomed beside him.
Turning his skull towards the pack wolf, Kierkegaard cast him a placid expression and peeled his lips wayward to reveal yellowed canines for a fleeting moment. “Home,” he growled in response, flicking his tail. Having found that he had tread just enough water to wet his rear end, upon gesturing with his tailpiece, the ashen wolf noted that he had carefully aimed the shedding of the water so that a series of droplets were just close enough that they very well could have fallen against the opposing male.