Chimera Fields rannsókn

@Solharr

Nothing seemed more intimidating than trying to acclimate to new, unfamiliar lands. Cicero had arrived into the territory days ago, half-starved and numb. The winter here was much more frigid and biting, more tiresome. The cold weather had seeped into his bones, and had caused his weak left hind leg to seize and ache. It was a dull pain at first, but with each mile put behind the outlander, it only grew more insistent. 

He couldn't hunt, not when he could hardly even run. His side was sunken in, dark fur sculpted against his ribcage, hollow and meek. Pathetic. How embarrassing it was to scrounge for scraps like some mutt. It reminded him all too well of the slums he'd left back in Saros. 

"Havnos!" The foreign curse was sharp, hissed. His leg had given out, causing him to nearly stumble and wind with a maw full of snow. Muscles ached with tension, and Cicero was forced to rest his haunches in the soft snow. His head hung, expression pinched into one of pain, or perhaps annoyance. 

Before he could relax, the cold wind brought a scent to his nose. A man, no less a stranger. His hackles rose on instinct, though it hardly made him seem any larger. With a dejected sigh, he turned to face the incoming breeze, his eyes sharp as he scanned the horizon. It would be just his luck, to get into a scuffle with a lame leg.