08-08-2019, 12:00 AM
Unlike the majority of Tanglewood's motley crew, the art of the hunt was not something that the hound regularly found himself dabbling in. As a matter of fact, pursuing raw food was hardly a concern for him. A bountiful amount of tin cans lined the rows of shelves that sat unevenly along his hut's stone walls, each individual metallic canister jam-packed with enough grub to make for a serving - completely erasing the need to catch the next meal in barbaric fashion. His yellowed fangs hadn't sunk themselves into the warm meat of fresh prey since the prior year, and as a consequence, his palette had grown accustomed to the stale fish and musty veggies he ate every night since then. It wasn't that the gleaming passion for the hunt completely erased itself from within him, but rather the fact that Leroy simply lacked the motivation. There wasn't any point in putting himself in a hunter's shoes, not when his valuable time could be spent elsewhere.
So what had driven the freshly-appointed Proxy to committing a few hours of his day to the cause? Perhaps it was the back-and-forthing occurring amidst a few comrades which had drawn his attention towards the thicket? Or, maybe it was one of those spontaneous urges he'd been experiencing lately that'd given him the inspiration to venture into the thicket? Possibly a combination of both queries, even?
Whatever it was, Leroy found himself among three others - Perseus, Vathmos, and Wormwood, and all were caught in quite the curious conundrum. The wolfhound grins whilst they bicker about the small mammal, a lone, sly chuckle arising from his esophagus. "If I may," he impedes, "that 'coon ain't gonna satisfy none of us, even if Mr. Wormwood here managed ta catch the damn thing. Besides, it probably tastes like garbage anyways." Amber hues fall upon the startled mammal, analyzing and making notes on its characteristics. Hell, that trash panda would barely fill his stomach. In a forest ripe with deer and foxes, surely there were better options than a scanty raccoon.
"If ya really wanna catch some food, I could show ya some of the best spots. That is, unless ya lot enjoy arguin' like a buncha tots."
So what had driven the freshly-appointed Proxy to committing a few hours of his day to the cause? Perhaps it was the back-and-forthing occurring amidst a few comrades which had drawn his attention towards the thicket? Or, maybe it was one of those spontaneous urges he'd been experiencing lately that'd given him the inspiration to venture into the thicket? Possibly a combination of both queries, even?
Whatever it was, Leroy found himself among three others - Perseus, Vathmos, and Wormwood, and all were caught in quite the curious conundrum. The wolfhound grins whilst they bicker about the small mammal, a lone, sly chuckle arising from his esophagus. "If I may," he impedes, "that 'coon ain't gonna satisfy none of us, even if Mr. Wormwood here managed ta catch the damn thing. Besides, it probably tastes like garbage anyways." Amber hues fall upon the startled mammal, analyzing and making notes on its characteristics. Hell, that trash panda would barely fill his stomach. In a forest ripe with deer and foxes, surely there were better options than a scanty raccoon.
"If ya really wanna catch some food, I could show ya some of the best spots. That is, unless ya lot enjoy arguin' like a buncha tots."