[ Post a Response | Wind Gale Pack ]
Posted by Cruz on May 26, 2007, 9:04 pm His jet-black nose twitched, and his indigo eyes narrowed curiously. The slight smile that had alighted on his lips departed now, and suddenly the ashen-hued wolf-dog stopped, his lean frame tense. The fluttering draughts disheveled his fair fur, parting the longer, coarser, ivory-colored guardhairs and exposing the soft, creamy-white fur beneath. The dark-tipped ears pivoted again, backwards this time, against his head; at the same time his body lowered slightly to the ground. His tail, usually held erect and curled against his dappled-sable back, presently uncurled, flattening out and lowering so that it is resting between his hind legs. No need to be overly submissive, not yet. The message that the wind had brought him told him that he had found what he was looking for - a pack, and, still more fortunately, the pack's leader. Or, at least, a member of the pack whose scent clung to nearly every blade of tall grass. His made his handsome canine face relax, his expression impassive and nonchalant - no need to seem overly hostile, nor overly submissive, right? His rump lowered to the ground for a moment, sitting in thought. What to do, what to do... the half-breed was nearly a year old now, but life primarily in captivity had not been conducive to instinct. Besides, he was only half-wolf - the knowledge of what to do in a pack-joining situation was unknown to him. He inhaled somewhat deeply, his lean shoulders heaving as he sighed. He had no idea what to do... he could only hope the leader of this pack would be patient with him. He stood again, shaking as he felt the first droplets of rain hit his back. The wolf-dog rolled his shoulders back, the blades of his shoulders protruding momentarily from their usual place, his coat glistening lustrously even in the dim light of the rainy day. Cruz padded forward with long strides, his trot leisurely but businesslike; he headed toward the place where his nose had told him that the owner of the scent on the borders resided. His dark, cobalt eyes roamed the horizon, and while his mind leapt from one topic to another - what was he going to say? To do? Would he be accepted? - one question echoed ceaselessly in the back of his mind: had he, at last, found a home?
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The pale-colored shadow glided smoothly through the brush, the grass tickling his belly. It was a stimulus to which he didn't react, too dedicated in his task to stop and giggle at the touch of meadowgrass - although a light smile curved the contours of his black lips irrepressibly upwards at the sensation. He couldn't help it. The heavens were crowded with dark clouds, cumulonimbus and nimbostratus clouds heavy with rain; the wind danced through the grasses, which bowed their tawny-colored heads and rustled in reply. His sedge-tipped ears pivoted forward and backward, rotating in accordance with the wind. Cruz was careful to listen to any news carried in the roar of the wind - one never knew what discovery the wind had made. 
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