11-06-2018, 03:54 AM
[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.5; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]There were very few things Perry would do on impulse. He was normally a careful planner, one who planned his next moves before even making his first one. He didn't work well under time restraints and he knew that spontaneous decisions often meant he would do things he would come to regret. Usually when he found himself in unknown places, stuck and without a way out, it was either because something unsuspected happened or because he had been kidnapped or mugged. Otherwise, he couldn't think of any other time he rushed himself to make a decision. At the same time, he was also realistic. He would never climb a tree because he knew that he has never been fussed with the idea of being arboreal. He liked the ground as it was, akin to different types of soils and textures. To sink his own claws into bark and heave himself upwards seemed like wasted efforts because sooner or later, the male would come down, most likely having gotten very little from the experience. He was an adult too. At almost two years old, he thought it to be rather embarrassing if he decided to try and climb one now. It was during Perry's younger years that the coyote enjoyed the idea of trying out new things, but even then he had been a little shy of the idea of failure.
Seeing others squabble around a tree, talking with their heads facing upwards into the trees, was a rather funny sight. He found himself almost giggling if it weren't for the fact that he still felt tense around them. Questions. They were asking so many questions. But he doubts whoever they were talking to had a difficulty speaking to others, eyes cast around to see a child brought to the ground, wings fluttering in a sort of struggle. His paws fidget at the mossy ground, standing atop the large roots of a tree. He observes the tiger cub in a silent manner, noting that not only was the child alone but also uninjured. It was an awful way to go about thinking but Perry thought it was strange for the youth to be unharmed when he seemed to be fending for himself. Maybe it was a decision the boy took on his own. The coyote, after all, left his parents as soon as he knew how to hunt. It wasn't because he hated them but because he longed to be his own individual, to work independently rather than be held back by the different views of his parents. He simply could not share a world with them. That was the reality they both came to a mutual understanding of.
The coyote frowns a little at the child's dismissal of the question regarding his parents. If he was looking for them, wanting to find them, he might have asked if they had seen some figures walking about. Or maybe, just maybe, he might have asked for directions. Then again, he doesn't know if the child feels his own pride hurt from having so many adults staring back at him, wondering if he was alright. Perry too would have dismissed all those questions to fend off so much attention, not wishing to engage in such conversations. He might also just be overanalysing. "Y-You could-could just s-s-stay h-here with us u-until one o-of u-us finds them," he offers, wincing at little at his butchered words. Funnily enough, he looked more afraid of being here than the kid. It should have been the tiger cub who was panicking. Well, to be fair, the coyote wasn't afraid himself. It was his meek appearance and voice that made him look like that. "I-I'm-I'm Perry."
Seeing others squabble around a tree, talking with their heads facing upwards into the trees, was a rather funny sight. He found himself almost giggling if it weren't for the fact that he still felt tense around them. Questions. They were asking so many questions. But he doubts whoever they were talking to had a difficulty speaking to others, eyes cast around to see a child brought to the ground, wings fluttering in a sort of struggle. His paws fidget at the mossy ground, standing atop the large roots of a tree. He observes the tiger cub in a silent manner, noting that not only was the child alone but also uninjured. It was an awful way to go about thinking but Perry thought it was strange for the youth to be unharmed when he seemed to be fending for himself. Maybe it was a decision the boy took on his own. The coyote, after all, left his parents as soon as he knew how to hunt. It wasn't because he hated them but because he longed to be his own individual, to work independently rather than be held back by the different views of his parents. He simply could not share a world with them. That was the reality they both came to a mutual understanding of.
The coyote frowns a little at the child's dismissal of the question regarding his parents. If he was looking for them, wanting to find them, he might have asked if they had seen some figures walking about. Or maybe, just maybe, he might have asked for directions. Then again, he doesn't know if the child feels his own pride hurt from having so many adults staring back at him, wondering if he was alright. Perry too would have dismissed all those questions to fend off so much attention, not wishing to engage in such conversations. He might also just be overanalysing. "Y-You could-could just s-s-stay h-here with us u-until one o-of u-us finds them," he offers, wincing at little at his butchered words. Funnily enough, he looked more afraid of being here than the kid. It should have been the tiger cub who was panicking. Well, to be fair, the coyote wasn't afraid himself. It was his meek appearance and voice that made him look like that. "I-I'm-I'm Perry."