Aug 8, 2011 0:34:38 GMT -5
Post by ⋆Ravɛn on Aug 8, 2011 0:34:38 GMT -5
Dust hung in the air.
The sky was a dark hue of navy blue, prim and proper, dotted with flecks of light that were named stars. Moonlight shone through the branches of the thick foilage, making constellations of particles. Scabir's nostrils flared, desperate to latch on to the scent of some form of animal that he would be able to kill and devour. It had been a day since he had eaten, and his stomach was cramping painfully, demanding substanance. He had to find something, and fast, before the slender brute withered away. Perhaps he was simply being dramatic - Scabir was known to do so - but so be it. He had an image to uphold, after all.
The rugged brute chuckled to himself at the thought before freezing as a thrashing sound reached his ears. It was panicked, frenzied. He was still, his ears at attention as the woods whispered to him. The flailing momentarily stopped and then, suddenly, picked up again. Scabir crouched low to the ground, angling his body towards the sound. His creeping gait was slow, steady. He truly had no idea what he would find rolling around in the thick shadows of the night. Instincts made his hackles rise, the fur along his neck and spine bristling. He was closer to the thing now; in the darkness, he could faintly make out a frantically wiggling bush ahead in the distance.
He went to move forward, paused. Advanced again, paused once more as a dry stick began to pop under his gray-black paw. Carefully lifting his leg, he repositioned, and then edged closer until he could make out the shape of a hare trapped in a tangle of thorns. When the beast spotted the wolf, it began to jerk back and forth vigorously, trying to free itself, but it was too late. Scabir sprang forward, teeth finding a hold on the hares neck. With one power squeeze, an audible crack reached the male's ears, and the hare went limp. Nevermind that in his haste, his muzzle had been pricked by the thorny plant that had just provided him with dinner. He ignored the stinging and prickling of his maw as he backed away, dropping the hare at his feet. Then, he eagerly began to eat, ears alert for any signs of life around him.
When he had finished with the carcass, having devoured over half of it, he left it. The scraps were minimal; he had been ravenous, and what was discarded would be a nice snack for the crows the next morning. Feeling quite full now, and his mood noteably increased, Scabir wandered a little ways from the corpse. Lowering his hindquarters to the ground in a less-than-graceful flourish, he let a lazy sigh slip from his throat. He was pleasantly drowsy now, although he didn't entirely feel like resting. His body was heavy, but his mind was thrumming avidly, racing through a million thoughts, ten million topics.
He assumed that he was coming close to the path that lead to Auktion Rock. He had heard many whispers of it, and the faint scent of blood and desperation that wafted into his nostrils now left no doubt in his mind that it was near. A slight sneer twisted it's way onto his maw; ridiculous sklavins and their ridiculous dominors. He had no patience for it, no desire to neither own nor be owned. He snorted quietly to himself.
Yes, I believe I would rather die than live a life of slavery. He thought to himself with grim amusement. I've never been a very good listener, after all.