First message
The fog clung to the coast. Thick enough even my enhanced wolf's vision was having difficulty deciphering shapes and direction in the fog. The roar of the incoming waves echoed eerily through the fog. The scent of salt water in the air, the seaweed and shells washing ashore along with the crabs I chase back into the ocean like the imperfect bubbles in the crashing waves. I can hear the great white owl hunting a void in the noise of the ocean at my side. The white wings buried in the depths of the clouds overtaking the land. I hear the squeal of the rat as the silent predator takes its snack. I lunge toward the cacophony of rats in the dunes amid the long grass, and there you are, hidden among the clouds and the sound-dampening owl holding the slingshot dangerously well. I can smell the copper of the penny held in the leather basket and the silicone of the elasticized tubing held taut and braced with metal at your arm. A small huff leaves my muzzle, and I stop completely, lying on my stomach in the tall grass, signaling my intention of gentleness. When you don't put the slingshot down, I decide that the risk of shifting is worth it to communicate with you. Sigurd, current leader of the Bloodbrood pack. I stay seated in the tall grass with my hands raised and slightly in front of me, unable to retrieve my clothes. When you keep the slingshot trained on me Guest to the Bloodrose pack, here for the blood moon hunt I keep my hands where you can see them My kilt is behind you