Post by ZEE! on Dec 15, 2012 16:52:10 GMT -5
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Pale sunlight slanted through the small new leaves of spring, shining easily through their thin membranes and casting an odd green shadow. The forest floor was covered with a dappling of that odd green and and the pure gold of the sun, twisting and writhing like the pelt of a leopard as the light breeze tossed about the slender boughs of the trees. It was the first truly warm day of a spring, that glorious day when at last the deep, cold, ache of winter was banished from your bones. .A very momentous occasion indeed. The big, black wolf stretched out under the glow of the sun, causing his bones and joints to creak and complain. Oof. He was getting to old for this. A quiet huff of laughter escaped involuntarily from his throat as he settled back onto the soft, thick grass beneath him. Too old for what? Lazing about in the warm sun with a full belly and nothing to do? Oh yes, that was quite a trial after over a year of wandering about the countryside all by himself until his paws bled and his belly ached with hunger. Not to mention, its not like three was especially old for a wolf, he had barely even come up into his prime. Although at a quick glance he could maybe be taken for an elder. Silver spread liberally up from all four of his paws, covering his underbelly and grizzling the rest of his black fur. Even his face was almost more silver than black, except for the broad stripe running down his nose. So yeah, maybe he looked a little old, especially at the moment with his stiff movements and hurting joints. But hey, at least he'd never gotten complaints about it and most lady-wolves even said he was a pretty handsome fellow. It was those long, long legs. That's what Mama used to say anyway. The sudden thought of his mother sent a sharp pang into his heart, reminding him fiercely of how he had shamed them. Now that he was no longer an angst-filled youngster, Yiska saw clearly that the true failure had not been his cowardice at the face of the bear, but his cowardice in the face of laughter. He had failed them the very minute he had turned his tail toward his loved ones and walked away. That was the greatest betrayal that could ever be made. All of his brothers and sisters had been left, and he he had loved them more than anything. How could he not fail the same way again? Could he love his new tribe more than old? Yes. Yes, he could not fail, there was no way. Yiska would stay with the Toopi until his last breath was expelled from his lungs. Surely he had proved that after that whole situation with the second bear. Come on, how many times did a guy have to fail his childhood woes before he was allowed to move on with it?
Sighing quietly the young wolf settled his nose down his silver paws and gingerly stretched his injured haunch out behind him. The wound still stung fiercely from the bear's claws, but the pain would pass soon. Not soon enough though. Yiska longed to be back up on his feet and running after some unsuspecting elk. All this being cooped up at the den was just plain old getting on his nerves. There was only sitting and looking at those damn squirrels that were running everywhere and the only thing he could do about it was watch them with narrowed yellow eyes. His leg was to sore to catch the buggers, and he didn't want to look like that much of a fool in front of his brand new family quite yet. But he sure did hate those squirrels. Stupid rats. As if on cue to taunt him a pair rain right in front of his nose, skittering around and chuckling like the little beasts do. The hairs on the back of Yiska's nape stood almost straight up as they twitched their bushy little tails right in front of him. How he hated their bushy little tales. A deep, low growl began in Yiska's chest, roiling out quietly passed his clenched fangs. Control yourself, he thought uselessly. Control was useless. Hate was forever. With a snarl the dark wolf launched himself at the little creatures, catching one of their bristly tails between his jaws. With a quick, practised snap he tossed the squirrel back and met it with an efficient snap of his teeth, feeling the lovely, satisfying crunch of bones between his teeth. The sweet, thick taste of blood flooded over his tongue, filling his senses with a joy he felt only when he was hunting or taking his revenge on squirrels. Back to the ground he went with a sudden thump. Dropping the mangled corpse from his mouth Yiska twisted to peer at his haunch. A smelly mixture of blood and pus trickled out of the reopened wounds. Irritated by the quick movement, his wound had started leaking all over his nice clean fur. Great.
