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| Subject: myeh, was gone, gone, gone. Music camp then Michigan. Hello again. | |
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Author: Ishtar |
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Date Posted: 16:29:40 07/30/02 Tue Another wolf has been watching Lunaia, whether or not Nervelli has. He is deep in the shadows, though, and cold, calculating grey eyes cannot be seen. For further percaution, he's used magick to mask his scent, and the strong scent of blood and death of that which he carries with him. It's a pity, he thinks to himself, that the small Lunaia had to run into that lurking wolf and attract attention to herself. It would have been much, much easier to lure her away before she was noticed again. He has something to show her, afterall. So the dark-masked wolf stays still, crouched in the shadows. He does not want to attract the attention of the new clan to him. No, that wouldn't do. His eyes flick down to the body laying at his paws. The limp, black-furred wolf; once bright eyes now grey and milky in death, with only hints of their former colour left, thick black fur blood-soaked. [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |