Post by Cabolt on Jan 10, 2006 22:46:29 GMT -5
The white pup's breaths came slow and light, as if recovering from a long run. He was indeed tired, but the added fatigue came from his neglected body, which was growing thin, and his pelt becoming more ragged. The small animal was hardly even white anymore; so much dust was in his coat from traveling that he looked almost completely grey. Not that it mattered right now. His squeezed his golden eyes shut and clenched his teeth with a soft groan as his stomach growled again, a fresh wave of hunger hitting him like a freight train.
He got up onto his large paws, shaking his head softly as he steadied himself. He was in poor form, and he knew it. Being seven months old, he was no stellar hunter. Sure, a rat, a vole here or there, but not enough to completely depend on. With a sigh, he sat back down, closing his eyes with a sigh. “You can’t do this alone, stupid idiot.” He whispered to himself, grimacing as his stomach screamed at him again. “You’ll need help, if you want to live to see next month.” He opened his eyes, obviously cross. So much suffering, and no one to logically blame it on. But her. Yes, that’s right, this was all her fault…
"D-dammitt..." He coughed, staring off into the trees, his breath still laboured. "There's gotta be a pack of wolves around here somewhere." He knew that this was a border scent. That fae had taught him how to recognize it; and by all logic, where there was a pack, there would be carrion to salvage for himself. Not the best meat, but fugitives can't be choosers.
He got up onto his large paws, shaking his head softly as he steadied himself. He was in poor form, and he knew it. Being seven months old, he was no stellar hunter. Sure, a rat, a vole here or there, but not enough to completely depend on. With a sigh, he sat back down, closing his eyes with a sigh. “You can’t do this alone, stupid idiot.” He whispered to himself, grimacing as his stomach screamed at him again. “You’ll need help, if you want to live to see next month.” He opened his eyes, obviously cross. So much suffering, and no one to logically blame it on. But her. Yes, that’s right, this was all her fault…
"D-dammitt..." He coughed, staring off into the trees, his breath still laboured. "There's gotta be a pack of wolves around here somewhere." He knew that this was a border scent. That fae had taught him how to recognize it; and by all logic, where there was a pack, there would be carrion to salvage for himself. Not the best meat, but fugitives can't be choosers.
