11-16-2018, 06:07 PM
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 550px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color:; padding: 20px"]Every step he took was another paw away from the place he had once called home. He missed the dank caves, the noisy crickets, the smell and feel of his siblings lying against him as they all drifted off into a light slumber; but as was usual for his flighty choice of company, it was his time to come in to his pelt and thrive for independence in this great world. Find a new pack to call his home, or make one with a nice female that sought pups and a much simpler way of life.
Though yearning... that was entirely different. He was nostalgic, but not desperate, and in fact eager to meet new animals that he would not have previously. Their usual associates were of the same skin as they were, which translated to wolves and dogs, and only such. Anyone else was alienated and driven out. He had been too young to find fault in this flimsy way of communication, and now the slight grievance towards strangers costed him the open attitude that he so liked to pride himself in having. The reality was entirely different, however. He struggled to interact exceptionally, and when faced with a challenge he would leap-in head first, eager for the thrill of confrontation. The only difference between him and his family was that he was curious of the world and much preferred seeking adventure out. Whether it was him shedding his adolescent years or this random personality trait that had caused him to be driven out, it was unsure. It could very well be both.
The marshlands were soggy and stained the very bottom of his legs brown with muck. He did not favor this, especially when his empty stomach cornered him into a particularly sour mood. It was this irritability that caused him to be less focused on the stench of territory markers and more on walking, keeping a look out for anything to eat as he moved. To soothe this hunger, he would stop occasionally and gnaw on grass, even if it would give him the shits later. Jethro couldn't stomach rabbit food well, but the more energy he had the easier time he'd have in finding his next meal.
"This place is a fucking dump." he exclaimed in a fit of fury. Who would even live here? Not him. He liked trees over his head, not spots of wetness with water that wasn't even clean. The grey-colored wolf would emit a slight growl, tongue fleetingly passing over drawn-in lips.
Though yearning... that was entirely different. He was nostalgic, but not desperate, and in fact eager to meet new animals that he would not have previously. Their usual associates were of the same skin as they were, which translated to wolves and dogs, and only such. Anyone else was alienated and driven out. He had been too young to find fault in this flimsy way of communication, and now the slight grievance towards strangers costed him the open attitude that he so liked to pride himself in having. The reality was entirely different, however. He struggled to interact exceptionally, and when faced with a challenge he would leap-in head first, eager for the thrill of confrontation. The only difference between him and his family was that he was curious of the world and much preferred seeking adventure out. Whether it was him shedding his adolescent years or this random personality trait that had caused him to be driven out, it was unsure. It could very well be both.
The marshlands were soggy and stained the very bottom of his legs brown with muck. He did not favor this, especially when his empty stomach cornered him into a particularly sour mood. It was this irritability that caused him to be less focused on the stench of territory markers and more on walking, keeping a look out for anything to eat as he moved. To soothe this hunger, he would stop occasionally and gnaw on grass, even if it would give him the shits later. Jethro couldn't stomach rabbit food well, but the more energy he had the easier time he'd have in finding his next meal.
"This place is a fucking dump." he exclaimed in a fit of fury. Who would even live here? Not him. He liked trees over his head, not spots of wetness with water that wasn't even clean. The grey-colored wolf would emit a slight growl, tongue fleetingly passing over drawn-in lips.
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 550px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color:; padding: 20px"][align=center][size=5][font=arial black][b][glow=black,4,500][color=white]✦ — I'M SO WEST COAST
IT'S A GODDAMN SHAME[/glow]
IT'S A GODDAMN SHAME[/glow]