dramophone — joining

[MYERS]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]There was something about this clan life that jarred him, more so than being drawn-to-life seemed to upset the dog before him. Where his previous existence was set in routine, a constant flow of movement that afforded him appropriate levels of nutrition, activity, and interaction with other living creatures, the Typhoon offered nothing of the sort. Food was scarce, hunted out of necessity. Two-legged humans were nowhere to be found. Affording to speak without being spoken to meant that interactions were voluntary, and he could come and go as he pleased. The white walls of the facility and the sterile smell of intense care were replaced with the peat smell of dirt, the curl of the ocean breeze. To put it simply, Benji was not the only soul who felt lost - though Ahab, on the other hand, lacked the excuse of being a newcomer.

There seemed to be a chance that they'd both feel just a little bit lost for the rest of their lives.

The bear, though, thinks nothing of the source. A stranger on the beach is either a piece of prey or an enemy trained in his sights. His sight - a single, dark eye flickering across the horizon line to assess any other threats, any other bodies - falls harsh upon the brightly colored dog with the decision that this was an intruder. He knew there was a youth population that wandered these beaches, often alone; though they were getting older, smarter, a dog with teeth and claws could kill the cubs that still tripped over their too-big paws from time to time. Emerging from the thickets and entanglement of vines, the kodiak bear lets loose a growl. It sufficed to say that any joiner who was first met by Ahab tended to be put off from their original intentions.

"You're intruding on a beach that isn't yours." He keeps his words clipped, strictly informative. The harsh lines of his face crease downward into a frown. "We have a joining process you have failed to complete. Name yourself, now."