Post by Crystal Pisces on Jul 31, 2013 14:08:05 GMT
A single small wolf stood tall, proudly on a small rock that overlooked the mystical lake that he had heard so much about. His eye, a perfect shade of copper itself, gazed over the rippling water. His fur, once smooth and handsome now matted along his back, spurting out in random tufts. A bi-product of his scars. His leg, barely held straight, shook slightly from his will to make himself look taller, normal again, as if he hoped someday to be normal.
Knute looked worse for wear, though at one time he was more than attractive. His father always said he could be an Alpha someday, or one of the greatests hunters in the pack. A she-wolf used to adore him, and he adored her, but his accident prevented any further romance. He was practically useless, the only thing that still worked properly were his ears, his voice, and his one good eye, and so he could not hunt or fight. No, he vowed his life to traveling, exchanging news and messages for safe sleeping and a meal. But he could never provide for a mate as he once dreamed of doing.
He sighed, ears twitching as the sounds of blue jays echoed through his ears, their wings brushing leaves and shrill voices filling the sky with song. Carefully he climbed down the rock, his forever broken leg never touching the ground. He had gained a skill to function just fine with three legs, though he did miss running at more than a rushed hobble.
At the waters edge he bent his head down, drinking from the cold water source, before gingerly laying himself down, careful not to put pressure on his rear left leg, his body facing out so his good eye could see if anything might come his way.
Knute looked worse for wear, though at one time he was more than attractive. His father always said he could be an Alpha someday, or one of the greatests hunters in the pack. A she-wolf used to adore him, and he adored her, but his accident prevented any further romance. He was practically useless, the only thing that still worked properly were his ears, his voice, and his one good eye, and so he could not hunt or fight. No, he vowed his life to traveling, exchanging news and messages for safe sleeping and a meal. But he could never provide for a mate as he once dreamed of doing.
He sighed, ears twitching as the sounds of blue jays echoed through his ears, their wings brushing leaves and shrill voices filling the sky with song. Carefully he climbed down the rock, his forever broken leg never touching the ground. He had gained a skill to function just fine with three legs, though he did miss running at more than a rushed hobble.
At the waters edge he bent his head down, drinking from the cold water source, before gingerly laying himself down, careful not to put pressure on his rear left leg, his body facing out so his good eye could see if anything might come his way.
