time; late afternoon
status; all welcome, but definitely seeking audience with Chakra
Life had not been kind to the young DeSarinno-Frostfur; not since he had gotten separated from Cyrus. He had truly thought he was going to die after having had a not so nice run in with a badger. It had torn his hindquarters up pretty good (or bad). He didn’t remember a lot from that day other than having made his way to the bottom of some mountain. He didn’t remember if someone had found him, if someone had taken him in, if someone had tended to his wounds. He had been pretty out of it for many days. When he had finally woken, he had been all alone but a fresh rabbit had been left for him. Apparently, whoever had been taking care of him had decided he was well enough to not need them anymore, leaving him to his own devises. He’d been entirely alone ever since, and not liking it in the least. He wasn’t the best of hunters, having never really hunted by himself because he’d always had either his parents or Cyrus around. Hamied had considered returning to his parents, but he couldn’t even remember how to get back. So he did the only thing he could think of, he returned to the last places he could remember having been. It had been so long since he’d seen Cyrus, that he figured his brother had given him up for either dead or gone to try to find him, so he didn’t bother trying to return to the last place he had seen Cyrus. Instead, he wandered, aimlessly, trying to think of what to do. And then he thought of his aunt, Koontz. Maybe if he could find her, he could find a home as well. He returned to where he was so sure that her pack was, but he wasn’t finding her scent, at all. This was obviously distressing to him, but there was obviously nothing he could do about it. That was when he picked up the scent of a nearby pack. He was hesitant to approach anyone he didn’t know, but if he didn’t do something, he wasn’t going to make it for much longer. He looked pretty ragged with his disheveled fur, slight limp and scars on his flanks from where the badger had torn into him. The yearling could only hope that whoever lived here didn’t turn him away. Stopping at a respectable distance, the young male found himself hesitating. Uncertainty filled his every thought and he almost changed his mind. Almost. Knowing it was now or never, the young male tilted his head back and let his soft voice fill the air, asking for audience with whoever was in charge. Then it became a waiting game… |