After his ill-timed meeting with Bucky, Volly had eventually picked his sorry ass up off the sand and headed a little farther inland, suddenly dreading the idea that his aunt would see him and question him as Bucky had done, and drive him deeper into whatever funk he’d been in. She knew what was going on with him, and Valerian was loathe to see anything like pity for him in her expression. Not now. No fucking way. So he’d headed out onto the plains, the first place he’d gone as a child when he finally ventured out of the glen. The first place he’d realized that a wolf could actually get an unadulterated view of the sky, without tree branches stretching up to obscure the view. Once he went out onto the snow-dusted plains, he sought out familiar landmarks, but there were surprisingly few out here.
Eventually, he’d come across the droppings of some kind of bird- quail, maybe- and followed the scant trail, only to have several of the tiny creatures explode out of the ground several meters from where he’d been sniffing about. He gave chase, heading toward a patch of thicker foliage where the birds landed and took refuge, skittering under the brush and disappearing. Valerian dropped down onto his belly and tried to crawl after them, but the bushes were brittle and thorny and grew close together, and he couldn’t see past the branches, much less crawl past them.
“C’moooon,” he said, drawing out the word, “I just wanna talk to yaaaa.”
He shattered that particular notion by snapping his teeth to punctuate that sentence. He tried to wedge himself farther under the brittle branches, which dug into his fur and scraped at his nose and muzzle. He backed up a step, and began a series of low, whining barks, as though that would get the quail to reconsider and come back to entertain him.
They had probably just run out the other side of the patch and into another clump of grass to hide and congratulate themselves at the big, stupid canine they’d outwitted. But the task itself was more important than the payoff just now, and Volly desperately needed to keep himself occupied.
He really felt like the birds weren’t being very sportsmanlike about all of this. At the very least they could run around in terror or something, instead of hiding. He wanted to run, wanted to move.
“Ffffuck you, birds,’ he muttered sulkily.
Jul 26, 2017 10:44 PM
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