Jchaytanni

Silvery wolfess watched cautiously with electric cyan orbs. Her tetative step indicated her nervousnesss, and her mobile lobes strained for the smallest sound. She was eager to run with the pack that roamed hereabouts, but she had never been disrespectful to the important alphas and their legions. She kept her nape well in sight, for any creature following as silent as snow along the banks would know her intentions true. In her mind's eye she saw her herself rejected and mauled for the forwardness. She stoppped, dainty pads paused in the tracks she'd blatantly left. She raised her head now, larynx striving for it's mournful call that would echo around the many miles of terra the pack hunted. Her cry told of hard winters alone and friendless, of huger burning like coals in her belly. She sought also the meaning of the emptyness and longing for companionship that had never stirred yet in her four yaers of quiet exisance. For all the depth, the seranade lasted precious few seconds, and she sat back on her haunches waiting for some sort of return.

The sights and sounds of this fruitful terrain made her juices run. She longed to lope through the brush, silently stalking prey, but her sense of wariness kept her free spirit in check. She now looked freely and openly about her, anticipating whether such an alpha as to hold such a land would accept a beast the knew little of pack life. She ached to join them, this ache she felt more than any crippling stabs through her crying belly.

A fly came sharply into focus before her shining pools. The irritating bites of its fellows marked her pelt, and the sharp snap and crunch marked her meagre revenge. She hadn't eaten in several days, and the tantalisig crumb of the insect had reminded her of her need to feed. She had never been an able hunter and had often gone hungry, but she had thoroughly neglected her paining stomach in her haste to travel to the pack's boundary. Her ribs were not quite clear, but the lack of prey in her own range had given her a severe starved look. Her long limbs stretched out, and one hindpaw batted idley at another biting fly. She had never enjoyed waiting, for patience was no vitue of hers, and the idea of sitting anticipating the alpha's appearance was startlingly dull and dreary. She rolled onto her back, the gritty earth helping ease the itch of the bites accross her back.