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Moon
- Joined
- May 26, 2012
- Location
- Random erotic dreams
Kazar was a somewhat older wolf, and a very old soul.
The Forest Spirits had gifted him with many things. Exceptional speed, strength and size; under his gray-white fur his muscles remained corded and powerful despite his nearly fifteen summers. He could still bring down a bull deer by himself, could still spot or scent danger more than a mile away, could still sing the song of the pack as well as any young buck. And he retained the Voice that allowed to communicate to those who walked on two legs.
It was an elder Two-Legs he sought this day as he padded through the forest. Kazar could still the taste the blood of the other two elders he had slain some moons back. He thought he could smell that same taste on the wind briefly as he circled ever closer to the village. It was there--along with the scent of fear. Kazar grinned, baring his ivory-white fangs and licking them with his tongue. Fear often caused Two-Legs to makes mistakes. A little more death, and the young ones would have nothing to fear.
But the elder was not alone. A young one-- a young female Two-Legs-- was trailing in the elder's wake. Kazar had not had her scent before. Would she get in the way of his justice? By the code of the Forest Spirits, one took no more life than was needed to preserve life.
Kazar lowered his head and loped forward a bit faster, anxious to make his kill, and anxious about the newcomer he had scented.
The Forest Spirits had gifted him with many things. Exceptional speed, strength and size; under his gray-white fur his muscles remained corded and powerful despite his nearly fifteen summers. He could still bring down a bull deer by himself, could still spot or scent danger more than a mile away, could still sing the song of the pack as well as any young buck. And he retained the Voice that allowed to communicate to those who walked on two legs.
It was an elder Two-Legs he sought this day as he padded through the forest. Kazar could still the taste the blood of the other two elders he had slain some moons back. He thought he could smell that same taste on the wind briefly as he circled ever closer to the village. It was there--along with the scent of fear. Kazar grinned, baring his ivory-white fangs and licking them with his tongue. Fear often caused Two-Legs to makes mistakes. A little more death, and the young ones would have nothing to fear.
But the elder was not alone. A young one-- a young female Two-Legs-- was trailing in the elder's wake. Kazar had not had her scent before. Would she get in the way of his justice? By the code of the Forest Spirits, one took no more life than was needed to preserve life.
Kazar lowered his head and loped forward a bit faster, anxious to make his kill, and anxious about the newcomer he had scented.