He’d been slinking along the lake for a while now, lingering. Not with any particular intent of course. No, he had no attachments to this place. The only thing tying him here was the very thing that kept him slinking around the hills for so long the time before.
Or as he preferred to call it—lack of inspiration.
He could understand why others were drawn to the lake. It certainly wasn’t lacking in the aesthetics department, the rogues were friendly, the fish were flavorful, there just wasn’t a spark. No fireworks, ya know? It was time for him to see other people. Er. Landscapes?
And it was with that convincing discourse that Monte found himself here, toeing the line, an increasingly dense blend of pack scents slowly filling his nose. He flicked his tail against the meadow grass, pausing to glance around at the area before him. With each additional step he took the protection of the glade faded behind him; any further lingering and he’d put himself right in the middle of a meadow.
A meadow that was clearly not meant for lowly rogue wanderers and other riffraff like himself.
Monte huffed lightly to himself, as if he hadn’t known exactly what he was getting himself into. He’d first detected the beginnings of that good ole’ pack scent quite a ways back. He could grumble all day long about the inconvenience of pack borders and the pompousness of it all—but at the end of the day he knew this is where he had wanted to end up. Call it reckless, but he couldn’t help it.
It wasn’t like it had to be any big deal. Just a little check in, chalk it up to experience. He didn’t have anything to lose. Monte took a few steps into the meadow, foregoing any attempts of stealth. The way the wind was blowing he was half surprised no one had already barged over and tackled him. Not that he was complaining.
May 23, 2017 12:13 AM
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