Post by Therdde on May 19, 2008 22:00:06 GMT -5
Characters:
Remington – Male Dog
Skelaghe – Female Wolf
- Sparse Copse -
There is a dog loose in the wood. Normally this would be guaranteed to strike fear, or anger, into the hearts of many wild animals, but the scent of canine is commonplace in this neck of the forest -- that is what has drawn Remington here. The markings of other ferals tingle the hound's sensitive nose, and he wanders among the elms, lifting his leg here and there to add his own scent to the myriad already present. He knows there are other dogs about, and this, of course, is the very best way for him to announce his presence to them.
If Skelaghe had any true sense about her, she would have avoided this copse for a long time. With the arrival of spring and the melting of the last bits of snow in all areas she frequents, though, she has figured it is time to try again, a bit more cautiously this time. The first task in exercising that caution was ensuring there were no other wolves about who might wander in and startle any dog she might find. She is currently in the process of walking a very loose perimeter around the area where she encountered Jolon, careful not to get too close to the group.
Remington happens to be walking the perimeter himself, though his attention is turned inward as he slowly circles his way toward the three sentinel trees. Too intent to notice the wolf approaching him from behind, he makes his way to the first elm, the one that appears to be dying, and lowers his head for a thorough sniffing. Sparse as the copse is, he may be visible from a long way off, wagging his tail slowly while he examines the base of the tree.
Skelaghe hears a creature ahead before she spots or smells Remington. It's difficult to distinguish one canine scent from another in an area this heavily populated. However, the sounds of another creature out here, walking along the same area, encourages her to quicken her pace slightly while still treading carefully to not make too much noise. It limits exactly how fast she can move, but within moments, it pays off, and she can easily tell that the canine up ahead is a dog. Unlike the ones she has seen to this point, but dogs are apparently much more diverse than wolves. Odd, then, that they should be so quick to hostility when they spot a wolf. With that thought, though, she brings her attention back to her surroundings and lets out a short bark, just loud enough to be heard in the immediate area. She has no intention of sneaking up too close to Remington.
There are indeed many dogs who frequent this area. Most of them, the males at least, have left their scent at the base of these huge elms; Remington can smell them clearly enough, though he has yet to encounter any of them himself. He has made a full circuit around the first, and he is beginning to move toward the second when a short bark causes him to stop at once, jerking his head up. Wide, low-set ears prick up, and he turns to face the source of the noise, believing it to be the call of another dog -- but the sight of Skelaghe proves otherwise. The moment he recognizes the approaching female as a wolf, he lowers his head and braces his shoulders, standing taut and erect. It is an unwelcoming stance, matched with a silent snarl that shows a glimpse of teeth. "What is a wolf doing in this part of the woods?" he wonders aloud, in a voice bordering on a growl.
Skelaghe stops walking as Remington turns to face her. Her tail is parallel to the ground, and though she is alert, she does not appear to be tense. "I do not desire conflict. I only wish to talk. I am alone and pose no danger to you or any of the others in the area." As though to attempt to prove this, she takes this moment to lower herself to the ground. Her head remains lifted, looking at the nearby dog. Should he rush her, she would probably have enough time to get to her feet and make an escape, but lying down as she is, she's not much of a threat, and she considers it the best approach to broker favorable relations with these canines, since smiling and joking failed to do any good at all.
Where there is one wolf, there are others not far behind. In Remington's experience, at least, this has always been true -- he knows there is at least one pack claiming nearby territory, and he has done his best to avoid them. He had not, however, expected to encounter them here, where the trees are rife with the markings of dogs. Standing his ground, the hound keeps his dark eyes locked on Skelaghe, regarding her with clear suspicion; despite what she says, he expects others of her kind to appear at any moment. "Alone? A wolf? I find that difficult to believe." There is obvious scorn in his voice, but much of the growl has left it, now that the she-wolf is lying down. "And what would a wolf have to say to a dog?" Neither his stance nor his expression have changed -- this is some kind of trick, the dog is certain -- but he is listening, at least.
It is hard not to show amusement at how snarly these canines are. It helps, of course, that Skelaghe knows how strong the hostility between wolves and dogs is, but even so, the level of conflict she has seen is just absurd, and as with anything else she views as absurd, she can barely help but laugh at it. With a deep breath, she says, "I've come to apologize to your group for my prior intrusion here. I realized too late, how tense my presence made one of your companions, and I did not act appropriately." She has no problem with humbling herself, and the apology is, mostly, sincere, but it is most definitely not /why/ she came.
Though Remington's eyes never leave Skelaghe, his ears remain pricked, listening closely for the sounds of other wolves closing in on him. Save for the calling of birds, the woods are silent until the she-wolf speaks up again. The hound inclines his head slightly, studying her for a long moment -- and then he sits down, finally settling back on his haunches with a low grunt. A glance is cast around them, his gaze sweeping the otherwise-empty copse before settling back on Skelaghe. Perhaps she is telling the truth. "I was not involved with that," he says.
Skelaghe does not move from her position when Remington sits. He still has a considerable advantage, and he will keep it until Skelaghe is certain that he trusts her enough not to be put on edge, should she stand or sit herself. Her voice remains soft as she continues speaking, and a faint smile appears. "I know you weren't, but we wolves are not all slow learners. I don't intend to make the same mistake twice, even if it were in the interest of making amends for the first." That's not /entirely/ true either. Had she not stumbled across Remington, she would have made her way closer to the group, but only so far as would have been necessary. "I was hoping, though, that you might pass on my apology."
Remington listens carefully to the wolf's words, still suspecting some sort of trickery... even though he now believes that Skelaghe is, in fact, alone. Intruding to make apologies for intrusion, that seems like foolish business to the hound, but it is business that has nothing to do with him. "Would that I could," he answers stiffly, "but these dogs you speak of are no companions of mine." His manner of speech is strangely proper, but there is no warmth in his tone -- he owes the wolf no favors, after all. If Skelaghe has some sort of conflict with the local dogs, he'll have no part in it.
This particular mission of Skelaghe's seems to have been plagued with rotten luck. She is certain there is a reason for that, but she is beginning to lose sight of what the reason might be. Rather than ask what he's doing here or why he was so upset at /her/ presence here if he's not a member of this group of dogs, the only thing she says is, "Ah. Well, I apologize for taking your time, then." All is not lost. This dog was willing to listen to her, which means that, just maybe, others within that group will be as well. Perhaps, then, /that/ was the purpose behind her running into Remington. Simply to show her that, while the task before her might be difficult, it is, in fact, possible.
Remington inclines his head, cocking it slightly to one side. His brow furrows in vague puzzlement. The hound has come across many wolves in his life, but the encounters have never gone quite like this... though admittedly, he has seen fewer wolves now than he did when he was still hunting with his master. Grunting softly, Rem acknowledges the apology with a curt nod of his head, and finally abandons the suspicion that he is being tricked. To what end? If Skelaghe wanted to attack him, she would have by now, with or without her invisible packmates. "How many of these dogs are there?" he asks, succumbing to curiosity.
Skelaghe's new working theory about why things have played out the way they have is solidified when the nearby dog asks her a not unfriendly question. It brightens her mood slightly, and her tone is light as she responds. "I did not get terribly close before, so I can't answer that with certainty, but there were a good number. Only three or four that I actually saw, but there are likely more than that." Despite the question, and this dog's apparent willingness to believe what she says, Skelaghe does not move just yet. More now because she is not overly eager to remove herself from the conversation than because she is actively trying to set the dog's concerns at ease.
The hound nods again, less brusquely than before. The wolf's information confirms another suspicion of his -- that there is a pack of feral dogs residing here, or enough of them to form one, anyway. He was beginning to think that he had been trailing the scent of some man's hunting party, though he had not smelled any trace of the man himself. "I see," he says, seeming pleased by this knowledge. There is a pause before he continues, looking closely at Skelaghe, "And you? Have you no pack of your own?"
"No. I have no pack." Not here or anywhere else. Most dogs seem reluctant to believe that, though, and so Skelaghe doesn't bother going into the details of /why/ she has no pack, not unless Remington asks. She can understand why they'd be reluctant to believe it, since they seem to be as socially oriented as wolves are. There are, at least, other ways to get that social interaction, though. Like seeking out dogs, who are known to be hostile towards wolves, to form loose relations.
Remington may have had trouble believing it, at least initially, but he has no cause to doubt it now. The she-wolf seems genuinely truthful in her responses, and he can detect no hint of malice or threat in her behavior. And he is alone himself, at least for the time being; if a dog can manage to survive without a pack, he has no doubt that a wolf is capable of doing the same. The hound nods again and says, "Should I happen upon the dogs you spoke of, I will be sure to deliver your message." Of course, Skelaghe is just as likely to find them as Rem is, but at least he is being civil towards her. Without waiting for a reply, the dog rises back to his feet and turns his side to her, departing with a few final words: "Good hunting, wolf."
Skelaghe lifts her head as Remington stands. She remains where she is, for the time being. There is no reason to destroy the progress she has managed by potentially worrying him as he departs. And, as far as she knows, he should have every reason to believe that, true to her word, she won't venture closer to the dogs, so his offer is an extremely positive one. With a smile, she says, as he takes his leave, "I appreciate that, and I wish you good luck on the hunt as well." After that, she turns her head to look in the direction where she last saw the dogs.
Remington – Male Dog
Skelaghe – Female Wolf
- Sparse Copse -
There is a dog loose in the wood. Normally this would be guaranteed to strike fear, or anger, into the hearts of many wild animals, but the scent of canine is commonplace in this neck of the forest -- that is what has drawn Remington here. The markings of other ferals tingle the hound's sensitive nose, and he wanders among the elms, lifting his leg here and there to add his own scent to the myriad already present. He knows there are other dogs about, and this, of course, is the very best way for him to announce his presence to them.
If Skelaghe had any true sense about her, she would have avoided this copse for a long time. With the arrival of spring and the melting of the last bits of snow in all areas she frequents, though, she has figured it is time to try again, a bit more cautiously this time. The first task in exercising that caution was ensuring there were no other wolves about who might wander in and startle any dog she might find. She is currently in the process of walking a very loose perimeter around the area where she encountered Jolon, careful not to get too close to the group.
Remington happens to be walking the perimeter himself, though his attention is turned inward as he slowly circles his way toward the three sentinel trees. Too intent to notice the wolf approaching him from behind, he makes his way to the first elm, the one that appears to be dying, and lowers his head for a thorough sniffing. Sparse as the copse is, he may be visible from a long way off, wagging his tail slowly while he examines the base of the tree.
Skelaghe hears a creature ahead before she spots or smells Remington. It's difficult to distinguish one canine scent from another in an area this heavily populated. However, the sounds of another creature out here, walking along the same area, encourages her to quicken her pace slightly while still treading carefully to not make too much noise. It limits exactly how fast she can move, but within moments, it pays off, and she can easily tell that the canine up ahead is a dog. Unlike the ones she has seen to this point, but dogs are apparently much more diverse than wolves. Odd, then, that they should be so quick to hostility when they spot a wolf. With that thought, though, she brings her attention back to her surroundings and lets out a short bark, just loud enough to be heard in the immediate area. She has no intention of sneaking up too close to Remington.
There are indeed many dogs who frequent this area. Most of them, the males at least, have left their scent at the base of these huge elms; Remington can smell them clearly enough, though he has yet to encounter any of them himself. He has made a full circuit around the first, and he is beginning to move toward the second when a short bark causes him to stop at once, jerking his head up. Wide, low-set ears prick up, and he turns to face the source of the noise, believing it to be the call of another dog -- but the sight of Skelaghe proves otherwise. The moment he recognizes the approaching female as a wolf, he lowers his head and braces his shoulders, standing taut and erect. It is an unwelcoming stance, matched with a silent snarl that shows a glimpse of teeth. "What is a wolf doing in this part of the woods?" he wonders aloud, in a voice bordering on a growl.
Skelaghe stops walking as Remington turns to face her. Her tail is parallel to the ground, and though she is alert, she does not appear to be tense. "I do not desire conflict. I only wish to talk. I am alone and pose no danger to you or any of the others in the area." As though to attempt to prove this, she takes this moment to lower herself to the ground. Her head remains lifted, looking at the nearby dog. Should he rush her, she would probably have enough time to get to her feet and make an escape, but lying down as she is, she's not much of a threat, and she considers it the best approach to broker favorable relations with these canines, since smiling and joking failed to do any good at all.
Where there is one wolf, there are others not far behind. In Remington's experience, at least, this has always been true -- he knows there is at least one pack claiming nearby territory, and he has done his best to avoid them. He had not, however, expected to encounter them here, where the trees are rife with the markings of dogs. Standing his ground, the hound keeps his dark eyes locked on Skelaghe, regarding her with clear suspicion; despite what she says, he expects others of her kind to appear at any moment. "Alone? A wolf? I find that difficult to believe." There is obvious scorn in his voice, but much of the growl has left it, now that the she-wolf is lying down. "And what would a wolf have to say to a dog?" Neither his stance nor his expression have changed -- this is some kind of trick, the dog is certain -- but he is listening, at least.
It is hard not to show amusement at how snarly these canines are. It helps, of course, that Skelaghe knows how strong the hostility between wolves and dogs is, but even so, the level of conflict she has seen is just absurd, and as with anything else she views as absurd, she can barely help but laugh at it. With a deep breath, she says, "I've come to apologize to your group for my prior intrusion here. I realized too late, how tense my presence made one of your companions, and I did not act appropriately." She has no problem with humbling herself, and the apology is, mostly, sincere, but it is most definitely not /why/ she came.
Though Remington's eyes never leave Skelaghe, his ears remain pricked, listening closely for the sounds of other wolves closing in on him. Save for the calling of birds, the woods are silent until the she-wolf speaks up again. The hound inclines his head slightly, studying her for a long moment -- and then he sits down, finally settling back on his haunches with a low grunt. A glance is cast around them, his gaze sweeping the otherwise-empty copse before settling back on Skelaghe. Perhaps she is telling the truth. "I was not involved with that," he says.
Skelaghe does not move from her position when Remington sits. He still has a considerable advantage, and he will keep it until Skelaghe is certain that he trusts her enough not to be put on edge, should she stand or sit herself. Her voice remains soft as she continues speaking, and a faint smile appears. "I know you weren't, but we wolves are not all slow learners. I don't intend to make the same mistake twice, even if it were in the interest of making amends for the first." That's not /entirely/ true either. Had she not stumbled across Remington, she would have made her way closer to the group, but only so far as would have been necessary. "I was hoping, though, that you might pass on my apology."
Remington listens carefully to the wolf's words, still suspecting some sort of trickery... even though he now believes that Skelaghe is, in fact, alone. Intruding to make apologies for intrusion, that seems like foolish business to the hound, but it is business that has nothing to do with him. "Would that I could," he answers stiffly, "but these dogs you speak of are no companions of mine." His manner of speech is strangely proper, but there is no warmth in his tone -- he owes the wolf no favors, after all. If Skelaghe has some sort of conflict with the local dogs, he'll have no part in it.
This particular mission of Skelaghe's seems to have been plagued with rotten luck. She is certain there is a reason for that, but she is beginning to lose sight of what the reason might be. Rather than ask what he's doing here or why he was so upset at /her/ presence here if he's not a member of this group of dogs, the only thing she says is, "Ah. Well, I apologize for taking your time, then." All is not lost. This dog was willing to listen to her, which means that, just maybe, others within that group will be as well. Perhaps, then, /that/ was the purpose behind her running into Remington. Simply to show her that, while the task before her might be difficult, it is, in fact, possible.
Remington inclines his head, cocking it slightly to one side. His brow furrows in vague puzzlement. The hound has come across many wolves in his life, but the encounters have never gone quite like this... though admittedly, he has seen fewer wolves now than he did when he was still hunting with his master. Grunting softly, Rem acknowledges the apology with a curt nod of his head, and finally abandons the suspicion that he is being tricked. To what end? If Skelaghe wanted to attack him, she would have by now, with or without her invisible packmates. "How many of these dogs are there?" he asks, succumbing to curiosity.
Skelaghe's new working theory about why things have played out the way they have is solidified when the nearby dog asks her a not unfriendly question. It brightens her mood slightly, and her tone is light as she responds. "I did not get terribly close before, so I can't answer that with certainty, but there were a good number. Only three or four that I actually saw, but there are likely more than that." Despite the question, and this dog's apparent willingness to believe what she says, Skelaghe does not move just yet. More now because she is not overly eager to remove herself from the conversation than because she is actively trying to set the dog's concerns at ease.
The hound nods again, less brusquely than before. The wolf's information confirms another suspicion of his -- that there is a pack of feral dogs residing here, or enough of them to form one, anyway. He was beginning to think that he had been trailing the scent of some man's hunting party, though he had not smelled any trace of the man himself. "I see," he says, seeming pleased by this knowledge. There is a pause before he continues, looking closely at Skelaghe, "And you? Have you no pack of your own?"
"No. I have no pack." Not here or anywhere else. Most dogs seem reluctant to believe that, though, and so Skelaghe doesn't bother going into the details of /why/ she has no pack, not unless Remington asks. She can understand why they'd be reluctant to believe it, since they seem to be as socially oriented as wolves are. There are, at least, other ways to get that social interaction, though. Like seeking out dogs, who are known to be hostile towards wolves, to form loose relations.
Remington may have had trouble believing it, at least initially, but he has no cause to doubt it now. The she-wolf seems genuinely truthful in her responses, and he can detect no hint of malice or threat in her behavior. And he is alone himself, at least for the time being; if a dog can manage to survive without a pack, he has no doubt that a wolf is capable of doing the same. The hound nods again and says, "Should I happen upon the dogs you spoke of, I will be sure to deliver your message." Of course, Skelaghe is just as likely to find them as Rem is, but at least he is being civil towards her. Without waiting for a reply, the dog rises back to his feet and turns his side to her, departing with a few final words: "Good hunting, wolf."
Skelaghe lifts her head as Remington stands. She remains where she is, for the time being. There is no reason to destroy the progress she has managed by potentially worrying him as he departs. And, as far as she knows, he should have every reason to believe that, true to her word, she won't venture closer to the dogs, so his offer is an extremely positive one. With a smile, she says, as he takes his leave, "I appreciate that, and I wish you good luck on the hunt as well." After that, she turns her head to look in the direction where she last saw the dogs.