November 26, 2014, 02:11 AM
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The male trailed outside of a small stream, his molten gaze settling on his surroundings with a lazy interest. After having taken the inky pup along with him, he felt as though he had made a crucial mistake. She was needy – as most pups were – and he had never fathered a child before. Kierkegaard had lived a solitary lifestyle. He had made it that far because he had done it, mostly, on his own. Moz had been there for a vast majority of his life, but she was just as independent as he was. Their relationship was a strange one. Nonetheless, the ashen brute knew that he could not survive without her there. She was his rock. No matter what changes happened to the ghastly creature, he could always count on his sister being at his side. Now, he feared that she would turn him away because of his choices with Signe. The young pup was learning, and quick, but there would be many struggles ahead for the two of them.
It was a crisp and early morning. The sun still seemed to linger behind a set of tall mountains in the distance. Frost had been scattered along the earth, dappling the ground here and there with a frigid bite. Kierkegaard’s breath fell from his lips and nose in great puffs that filled the air. His mind was set on one thing: food. That had been the most difficult of his tasks – feeding Signe. She was young, so her portions required some extra attention so that she stayed relatively well-nourished. Kierkegaard was not a patient creature, though, and had found that many of his budding frustrations stemmed from this simple task. Still, she needed feeding, as did he.
Drawing his muzzle upwards, the pallid monster peered towards a dark tree line in the distance, scenting a warren of rabbits nearby. He sauntered forward, following their trail in a beeline for the woods. His skull was held close to the earth, waiting for the movement that would signal his prey was near.
The male trailed outside of a small stream, his molten gaze settling on his surroundings with a lazy interest. After having taken the inky pup along with him, he felt as though he had made a crucial mistake. She was needy – as most pups were – and he had never fathered a child before. Kierkegaard had lived a solitary lifestyle. He had made it that far because he had done it, mostly, on his own. Moz had been there for a vast majority of his life, but she was just as independent as he was. Their relationship was a strange one. Nonetheless, the ashen brute knew that he could not survive without her there. She was his rock. No matter what changes happened to the ghastly creature, he could always count on his sister being at his side. Now, he feared that she would turn him away because of his choices with Signe. The young pup was learning, and quick, but there would be many struggles ahead for the two of them.
It was a crisp and early morning. The sun still seemed to linger behind a set of tall mountains in the distance. Frost had been scattered along the earth, dappling the ground here and there with a frigid bite. Kierkegaard’s breath fell from his lips and nose in great puffs that filled the air. His mind was set on one thing: food. That had been the most difficult of his tasks – feeding Signe. She was young, so her portions required some extra attention so that she stayed relatively well-nourished. Kierkegaard was not a patient creature, though, and had found that many of his budding frustrations stemmed from this simple task. Still, she needed feeding, as did he.
Drawing his muzzle upwards, the pallid monster peered towards a dark tree line in the distance, scenting a warren of rabbits nearby. He sauntered forward, following their trail in a beeline for the woods. His skull was held close to the earth, waiting for the movement that would signal his prey was near.
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