Sing me the words of a love song; open

[Delirium]

[atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=background,http://i51.tinypic.com/9g94ll.jpg] The lithe little figure dashed through the trees, shadows criss crossing over her pelt; casted from the labyrinth of limbs that made up a form of a canopy. It wasn't uncommon to see Kaliska away from the lands of Firestorm Island, just as it wasn't uncommon to see her and have her not see you. Especially when she was running. Kaliska was a unique sort of coyote, who was living proof that 'what ever doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger.' The scars that played over her pelt was proof of that. They were slight though, and hair had grown back, although in a lighter color to give them away. They crisscrossed down her back, over her haunches and her shoulders, along her side. And then there were the bite marks. scattered along her shoulders, the uppermost of her back. The wounds had been deep, and she could remember the image of Duke when he'd found her, half dead in the water. It'd taken all his power just to get her weak, limp form onto dry sand. She'd been so weak after the attack, so desperate to rescue herself, and yet she'd been unable to even supply a name to the face. She still knew very little about her attacker. But that had been a life time ago, and now, Kaliska wore the scars with pride. She never told the story, but that didn't mean she was ashamed of it. She'd learned long ago that the past stays in the past, and the future is what you should strive for. But again, that's a different story, filled with a different sort of scaring. Regardless of her past tragedies, Kaliska had pushed forward, prevailed, moved on . . . and now look at her; in charge of her own pack. A pack she was most proud of. She still wasn't sure how she'd become in charge of it, but it didn't stop her from doing what she had to to keep her pack safe. Perhaps it was the native american in her, the remnants of the past acting out. She'd grown up far from the islands, and had spent most of her time in an Indian village, and it was from the things she saw and learned their that she utilized into helping her successfully run the pack. But, no matter how much she liked the pack, the loner in her made her have to leave sometimes. Today, she'd settled on just running through the forest of evergreens, running until she was weak with exhaustion. She sighed quietly as she allowed her body to collapse by the water, rolling onto her side, as she panted, trying to soothe her racing, pumping heart. A satisfied grin was on her face, however, as she closed her eyes, laying her head in the cool grass. A run, it had been just what she needed. She remained laying down for a while, just letting the time pass, taking as much freedom as she could before she'd have to return to the pack. Before she'd have to give it up until she could steal away again for a few hours. Think the thoughts. "Talk the talk."

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[V.eyron]

Nguvu

Nguvu wasn’t at all sure how she got here.

But, that’s what you get for wandering so aimlessly, she supposed. When you live like a loner for so many years it become difficult to discern from where you have been and where you have not. Places and dogs faces become muddled and begin to all look too alike to be properly recognized. The Chow was certain that if she were to, by some stroke of twisted luck, come face-to-face with her poor mother again, she wouldn’t have the memory to recall who she was. It was a terrible thing, she figured that would be the right way of thinking about it, but something that simply came along with the territory of having no proper place to belong to, or any dog to consider her companion.

It was tiring lonesome, if she was honest. But, bitching about the cards you were dealt never did anything to change fate. It less painful just to go with the flow. Still didn’t explain where the hell she had found herself, though. This forest was beautiful, to be sure. It was something like she had never bared witness to, and frankly, it was making the Chow all kinds of wary. She was used to the streets, with cracked sidewalks that in a heavy rain carried the blood and filth of the pavements through them like gnarled and broken veins. Certainly not this all this natural splendor and warm color.

Nguvu padded her way over the roots and through the brush, unable to make heads or tails of how to find clear ground. Spotted tongue lolling this way and that along her gums she looked about, bearish head high and domed ears flicking this way and that. Nothing besides the gentle chirp of birds and the pitter-patter of what she supposed where raindrops in the forest canopy could be heard. The Chow snorted in irritation. Of all the places she had to find herself lost, it would be a god-forsaken maze of trees on a hot as hell day. Her thick, rusted coat wasn’t designed to keep her cool, but to lock heat in it’s heavy layers. It was doing a freakin’ fantastic job.

Typical.

She walked this way for a bit, ears flat against her skull and stocky body weaving begrudgingly through the evergreen forest. Her luck seemed to turn as the sloshing whisper of water caught her attention, and she quickly beelined towards the river. It was a tiny little thread of a thing, but nonetheless felt wonderful against her legs as she trudged through it. Nguvu chuckled a bit, a deep rumble in her ribcage, throughly enjoying her newest discovery. Ungracefully falling down onto her belly, she rolled over once, then twice, making sure that the water was able to seep its way through to her skin. Ah. Did that feel-what?

Nguvu paused in her actions, slowly settling back on her haunches, great head lowered and brown eyes squinting into the distance. She could have swore...Ah! There is was! Along the bank was a faint blotch of sandy fur standing sharply out agaisnt the emreld green.

As gracefully and as full of pose as one would expect from her, she drew a breath, and let out a hoarse shout, “Hey, you! Little scrap o’ a thang! You rotting? ‘Cause I figur’ it ain’t real good to be callin’ at the dearly departin’!”

[Delirium]

[atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=background,http://i51.tinypic.com/9g94ll.jpg] Everything was calm, cool, relaxing . . . Everything was perfect on this day. Not a bother, not a wild moment. Quiet, simple, comfortable, and easy to accept, that was until she heard the random sound of someone splashing around. She jumped slightly, ears perked, as the coyote turned towards the sound, and slowly stood up to see another dog, a female it appeared. Hey, you! Kal’s ears pinned slightly, as she slowly approached the dog, Little scrap o’ a thang! You rotting? ‘Cause I figur’ it ain’t real good to be callin’ at the dearly departin’! Kaliska moved forward, her lithe form graceful but driven with purpose, “Li’l’ scrap a thang?” She repeated, her thick, southern accent lilting through the air, “Name’s Kal, leada a the Natives. And I s’ggest ya hold yer to’gue, I ain’t to fond o’ bein’ called a scrap o’ anythang.” Kaliska snapped, her gaze narrowed, “Now, how ‘bout yer name, hmm? Ain’t ya g’t one? Or am I s’ppose ta guess?” She demanded, before falling silent to wait. OOC:// next one will be better. V.V Think the thoughts. "Talk the talk."

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[Whiskey]

[atrb=cellpadding,2,true][bg=#000000][atrb=cellspacing,2,true][atrb=width,350,true] Whiskey weaved through the trees with grace as her eyes focused on the land ahead of her. Her small paws barely made a sound as they gently made contact with the forest floor. A small amount of light managed to pour through the bright green leaves of the trees. The collie was glad to have a thin coat; it did a great job at holding in cool, fresh air rather than holding in warmth. Her whiskey-toned eyes looked toward the east as she continued to gallop. Right at the moment she needed it, she found a small puddle full of murky water. Whatever, it'd have to do anyway. Her tongue slid out of her mouth to lap up the filthy, yet cold, beverage. Right when her head backed away from the puddle to continue on, she caught the sight of a young coyote with a sleek, feminine build. A few moments later she examined that another canine, some type of thick-coated breed, was headed in the coyote's direction. The scene was enough to get Whiskey to approach it; in a sneaky manner, of course. She headed toward the two in a way a wolf would stalk it's prey; with lowered haunches, front legs and head and eyes focused deeply. She would stick around to see what would go down, perhaps join if if things got interesting. 226 words

[V.eyron]

OCC: It's alright. :]

Nguvu

Nguvu’s inquires were as quickly answered as they were spoken, it seemed, as the lithe form made a beeline for her position in the middle of the stream. Cocking her bearish head, she raised a single brow in interest at this new canines hasty approach. As this...dog? No. This creature held a form much to slim and a face to narrow and wolfish to be any breed of dog, at least not one she had the fortune of coming across before. It dawned on her a split moment later, this was a coyote, or perhaps some kind of jackal. Nguvu herself had very little contact with these..ah, things? Raccoon-foxes? Really big, pointy-faced rats? To go off of. Psh, how bad could it be? She could break this little female in half just by sitting on her. From the looks of it, this one was rather irritated not being able to rot in the sun in peace. Despite this, she was thrilled to finally have some witted company around her, and refused to let this little scrap tinker with her good mood.

Kaliska, as it became known, immediately showed her distaste for the Chow’s sudden nickname. Quick to assure she was, in fact, not a scrap of a thing. Nguvu couldn’t help the deep chuckle that rumbled between her ribs, nostrils flaring with a half-assed effort to stifle her laughter. This one was right down to business, wasn’t she? “Hay, now, lil’ lady, ain’t no reason to get all hot ‘n bothered ‘bout it now,” She flashed her a toothy grin, dark eyes filled with amusement, “Bu’, ‘cha a fiesty one, and ol’ Dozer here can really, uh..” She paused for a moment, brows knitting together as she searched for the appropriate word, “Appreciates good shit lik’ that. Dun’ come nowhere’s near lot’sa the more docile kind wit’ thats kinda’ spunk. Donts know nottin’ ‘bout doz’ Nattins, though.” She rolled her broad shoulders in a shrug to further her point. It was true, she had no idea where exactly this was, let alone what tribes do, and don’t reside here. Nguvu attempted to be impressed with Kaliska’s supposed Alpha status over these Natives. They sounded like a bunch of pup-raping savages that wore each others skinned pelts, but she had enough of a mind to not quite broach the subject. Yet.

The red Chow laughed again at her hastiness, lowering her head to attempt to catch this coyotes eye, “Well, you ain’t really givin’ me much time ti’ go ‘bout it, Kal, but since you asked so kindly and ‘da like, I ‘reckon ‘da name ‘ere is Nguvu...” She paused, frowning in distaste, she was never one for her birth-given title, “But, if you’id be so kind as ‘ti say Dozer, it be a good ol’ thang.”

Nguvu was prepared to continue on another tangent, as never being one for an awkward silence, but a rustle in the bush caught her attention. Tilting her bearish head, she peaked from the corner of her eye, attempting to catch any sign of movement. Nothing. Glancing back to Kaliska, she raised a brow, curiously watching her delicate features for any comment on the subject. It could be nothing more than a small animal working it’s way through the ferns and roots...but, stranger things had happened, if this day could be any example. The Chow found herself talking to a raccoon-fox, for one thing. Or was it a big, long faced rat?

Stranger things.

[Delirium]

[atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=background,http://i51.tinypic.com/9g94ll.jpg] Kaliska was the type who wasn’t afraid to be the first to approach someone. In fact, she was more than happy to make her way towards the large, bulky female. Even if to only get her straightened out about what to call her and what not to call her. The coyote was not afraid to get down and dirty and make sure it was known that she was a top dog. Of course, it helped to make this known to animals that had met one of her species before. Kal raised an eyebrow, quickly speaking, and she was slightly annoyed at the chuckle leaving the female. What the hell was so funny about not wanting to be called a little scrap of anything. She was an alphess, and she figured that she out to be treated as such. Hay, now, lil’ lady, ain’t no reason to get all hot ‘n bothered ‘bout it now, The chow said with a very toothy grin, and Kal could easily read the laughter in the mammoth’s eyes, Bu’, ‘cha a feisty one, and ol’ Dozer here can really, uh.. The dog paused, as if her vocabulary wasn’t fit for modernized talking. Though, Kal couldn’t see much, considering her speeches were given in a thick, southern accent, Appreciates good shit lik’ that Dun’ come nowhere’s near lot’sa the more docile kind wit’ that’s kinda’ spunk. Donts know nottin’ ‘bout doz Nattins, though. Kaliska snorted, finally speaking up once the dog seemed to pause for a moment, “Natives. Nay-ti-ves” The coyote pronounced, “Yer sayin’ it all wr’ng. It’s the Natives.” The coyote was adamant that her group be pronounced quickly. Though, that was probably just the leader in her. “Docile?” She snorted at the word, “Now don’t go a’ound ins’ltin’ dogs like dat. We dun take kind to no respect. If’in I was docile, ain’t no way that I’d hava made leader. Fiesty, maybeh, spunk, what eva, but I ain’t not docile dog.” Kaliska said, watching the dog, rolling her eyes. Docile in deed . . . Not. The chow soon was laughing again, lowering her head, as if determined to look Kal in the eye, Well, you ain’t really givin’ me much time ti’ go ‘bout it, Kal, but since you asked so kindly and ‘da like, I ‘reckon ‘da name ‘ere is Nguvu… there was a slight pause, and a frown, before she added, But if you’ld be so kind as ‘ti say Dozer, it be a good ol’ thang. The coyote had barely opened her mouth, before the rustle in the bushes. Her eyes narrowed slightly, looking towards the sound, before shrugging it off and looking back at the mammoth. “Doze’, huh? Well, if that’s what ya p’efer, I ain’t gonna call ya somethin’ else. Wou’n’t be right, consderin’ I dun’ wanna be called be my full name eitha’.” Think the thoughts. "Talk the talk."

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