THE WOLF — p, luca

[Luca]

Luca didn't get sick often, but when he did he got it bad. His unnaturally high body temperature meant that few pathogens could survive in his system, leaving him free to live his life without the fear of catching nasties like the common cold. However, this had a downside as well. If his body temperature were to drop (as it often did in winter) he lacked the resistances that normal bodies usually built up over time. Quite frankly, his immune system was terrible at doing its job. That was one of the many reasons that Luca liked to avoid stormy weather. He would like to say that he hated winter as well, but the cold gave him a break for the constant overheating of the other seasons, so he was willing to take that for a trade-off. The cooling of the nights brought both relief and a looming sense of dread.

The hot sand was uncomfortable against his ember-speckled paw pads, so Luca liked to stick to the shade. The area where the jungle met the beach was good for him, because it had the shade of the jungle without the probability of getting lost. He kept his gaze on his bruised paws, as he often did, until the familiar scent of Marcellus brought his eyes up and forwards. He searched around for a bit until he managed to pinpoint the piebald cheetah, and his previously sullen expression lit up. He had been awfully bored recently, but Marcellus was the perfect candidate to play with. The fact that he appeared to be asleep at the moment definitely didn't help his case. With a cheeky smile on his lips, the hellhound emerged from the shade and into the light, moving with slow and calculated movements as he crept towards his victim. The sand softened the sound of his footprints and he held his breath, meaning that the only sign of his approach would be the slowly intensifying smell of smoke. He paused when he got close, crouching and wriggling his rump in a very cat-like manner to make tiny adjustments to his pose. When the time was right Luca would pounce at Marcellus, aiming to leap on top of him like the master hunter he was, freeing his breath with a light giggle. "Hiya Marcel," he would say regardless of whether or not he was currently atop his target. "Whatcha' doing out here?"