Post by HumanoidCarbonUnit on Feb 11, 2011 18:02:48 GMT -5
the big brute danced about int he snow, he chased the snow flakes as they gently fluttered down, he pounced on various spots in the snow, he picked up sticks and around about wit them, he even chased after his own tail. All his running kicked up a good deal of snow, some of which he galloped after. The beta of the Fjordsong pack was enjoying the snow in his own way.
Life had been good, if a little slow, in his new pack. It was nice tot be able to talk with others and know someone was watching your back. Still, Pasha had spent a good deal of his life alone and there were things he needed to do by himself. Playing was one of those things.
After a while the romping grew old. The grey and rust speckled male surveyed the damage he had done to the snow covered ground and gave a nod. it looked as if he had killed some prey minus the blood. The male let his pink tongue slide out of his mouth as he realized just how warm he was. It was a nice war winter's day, warm enough that the snow fell in large, fluffy clumps and there was no biting wind. Pasha's ancestors hailed from Siberia, the land where they very words you spoke froze as soon as they left your lips. His tick coat was made to protect him from winters like that, so mild days where like summer to him.
In an effort tot cool himself the brute deiced to roll in the snow. i twas a silly habit of his he had picked up from his mother. He flopped over into the snow and wiggled about on his pack, letting out a happy bark every now and again. After a moment the brute stood and shook. Then he began to contemplate abut a nap in the snow before he vaguely felt another creature's presence. Immediately he stiffened, his loner day instincts flooding his mind. He wondered how long the other had been there and if they where a threat.
Life had been good, if a little slow, in his new pack. It was nice tot be able to talk with others and know someone was watching your back. Still, Pasha had spent a good deal of his life alone and there were things he needed to do by himself. Playing was one of those things.
After a while the romping grew old. The grey and rust speckled male surveyed the damage he had done to the snow covered ground and gave a nod. it looked as if he had killed some prey minus the blood. The male let his pink tongue slide out of his mouth as he realized just how warm he was. It was a nice war winter's day, warm enough that the snow fell in large, fluffy clumps and there was no biting wind. Pasha's ancestors hailed from Siberia, the land where they very words you spoke froze as soon as they left your lips. His tick coat was made to protect him from winters like that, so mild days where like summer to him.
In an effort tot cool himself the brute deiced to roll in the snow. i twas a silly habit of his he had picked up from his mother. He flopped over into the snow and wiggled about on his pack, letting out a happy bark every now and again. After a moment the brute stood and shook. Then he began to contemplate abut a nap in the snow before he vaguely felt another creature's presence. Immediately he stiffened, his loner day instincts flooding his mind. He wondered how long the other had been there and if they where a threat.