all things in their S.E.A.S.O.N.

[iris]

The grasses parted underfoot, bowing down to the slightest of weights and bobbing up again as the paws moved forward across the endless tide of golden grass. Here it was tall enough to brush the wolf's ears as he danced through the lands, lonesome and with his black nose towards the earth. He moved in the easy jogging gait that is given to all wolves, with his muzzle near parallel to the ground and aligned with his neck. His ears swiveled as the grasses dusted them with tiny grains of pollen, dappling the dark fur with lighter specks to be spread across the earth. His amber eyes were hardly visible in a sea of the same color, shining and ready for the trail ahead and the path that parted from his pawsteps. The wolf himself was half-buried in the grass, however his own broken path made him conspicuous. He was making absolutely no effort to remain unmolested, for he was reasonably sure that he would be left alone in these sleeping lands.

He'd left Torridpack behind early in the morning, before anyone could give him a job or tell him to do anything, as he was liable to do. Sanger was still plagued with the wanderlust of youth, it had clung to him like a second skin despite his maturity now. He didn't like to hang around one spot for very long, nor was he the sort who would do any duty with his whole heart. His heart had been left behind at some point, and he had not the strength to take on the world as he had once wanted to do. He had become as petty and malignant and as good as any wolf, perhaps even a little more of the former. Sure, he had seen and witnessed terrible things. Murders. He had been held captive. But he himself had tasted the blood of others, and he realized that he was different for that. Different in a way that made him like every other wolf whose paws had ever traced the many-worn paths as he did now.

In motion and in the most primal of ways, he remembered the thousands of wolves who had run through these lands. Or crouched after some grouse or rabbit. And how they had hidden themselves from some great terror. But, above all, they were like him. Noses flared to the wind and moving allong paths to see nothing except where they would take them. For such was the way of the wanderer, of the wolf who is in his purest state an animal of solitary nature and only after that loves the pack. And Sanger, despite the fact that he had been told that he saw these things and no one else did, was in fact a wolf. A wolf as all wolves have once been, who ran with the wind and ate the food that he hunted and travelled the Earth in search of why life existed.

Here the grass lowered, grazed by some colven-hoofed beast. And elk, perhaps, or a moose, and the gray-black form of Sanger was abruptly visible. Here his gait slowed and his head rose to the air. He halted, his head stretched up as far as he could get it, the wind ruffling the fur across his neck and shoulders. He shook his frame, ridding himself of some of his cargo of dusty grass pollen. His tail pointing at the ground, relaxed, he sat down and glanced around him warily before settling down to clean the dirt from between his toes as a dog will. The pads were rough and calloused, the nails worn down through travel but slowly gaining length. His life here had become soft and pointless, a fact of which he was horribly and clearly aware. He had become a lazy beast, shirking his duty and laying in fields and drinking from the laziest of streams. But he longed for more, for something greater and more complicated to overcome.

He shook himself once again, standing and raising his nose to catch the scents that floated tantalizingly through the air. The scent of his own kind lurked here, and that of the little red and rascally fox. But there was nothing fresh, nothing exciting on the stale wind. There never was. Suddenly, something caught his eye in the reeds. His ears pricked and his head cocked to the side as the thing released a loud noise, a sort of rusty sound that trembled through it's frame. It was obscured by the grasses, and endless curiosity and instinct caused Sanger to tighten and spring like so many pups. His paws and teeth closed around the thin skin of some creature, struggling in his jaws, easily over powered. He dropped it at his feet, and saw with a slight shock that it was only a frog. "Am I becoming a cub again?" he growled to himself, letting the little thing hop off, terrified and wounded, "starting at every little motion and noise like that?"

[Dusty]

Dusty truly had gotten lost. Had she ever been here? Yes, but no. Well, last time she had...she didn't quite remember the grasses being so...tall. This would be the only time she truly would admit to her small size compared to many other wolves. She was a tiny, lithe thing. Short, but muscled. Pretty, but not pampered. And these grasses, so tall. They towered above her, it seemed like!

The gray female wolf with dusted brown fur shook herself. What was she thinking? This was territory she knew that she was in, definitely not some scary, spooky place she was foreign to. This was her home, these lands she roamed.

Dusty flicked her ears, tilting her head upwards to sniff the air. The reason she was out this early was because she had awoken to a sound. She had some good senses, and had left her sleeping den to find a black wolf leaving the pack rather early and on his own. Well, she also recognized the black pelt. There were few with black pelts, but this wolf was male and only a tad bit bigger than her. She was the smallest in her pack, but she was well-fed and had muscle. This wolf, a warrior, was a bit on the scrawny side. She had spoken to him, gotten to know him a bit. They were more acquaintances than friends, though. Mostly they had to know each other, being warriors and hunters, his name being Sanger. And, with her rather overly-curious personality, Dusty had been dumb enough to follow him.

And now where was she? Umm...lost in her own territory? She mused to herself. Rather entertaining, in a way. These grasses were just intimidating, was all. She wasn't lost! Dusty lifted a paw to her muzzle, laughing under her breath. Why she felt giddy, she didn't know. She wanted to cause some trouble, though, that was for sure.

She was well-known for trouble. It could be her middle name.

Dusty's ears and tail darted up when a croaking sound started off to her right. Her golden eyes brightened. At heart, she'd admit to it, she was a puppy. Dusty crouched down low. This wasn't prey. She recognized the scent of this creature along with the sound. Well, unless you wanted to eat frog for breakfast, it wasn't prey. Dusty smiled, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. She counted in her head. 1...2...3...go! Dusty, low to the ground, darted forward, letting her playful insticts take over. She was a natural hunter, knew how not to harm prey. She'd just play with the frog.

Dusty let out a small, playful yelp as the frog came into view, she jumped over it, turning around and fake-pouncing, trying to scare the frog as her paws landed on either side of it and it took off, hopping away. Dusty lowered herself to the ground again, watching the frog hop away in fright with narrowed eyes. She could feel the morning sun's warmth sink deep into her pelt, touch her soul. She truly felt as if she had jumped into the past, acting this way. It wasn't mature at all.

Dusty crept forward on the tiptoes of her paws, carefully and quietly without making a sound. The grasses around her made a swooshing sound as her pelt brushed the tall grass when she passed. From her place, hidden, she saw the frog. But she smelled something else.

Someone here to ruin her fun, no doubt. Dusty lowered herself very, very close to the ground, as if she were hugging the earth. She opened her mouth, drinking in the scents around her. Everything was clearer when you had taste to go with scent. This creature, was wolf. She flicked her ears. Nobody else had gone and left her pack, so it was most likely Sanger. She backed up slightly into the grasses as Sanger practically attacked the frog as if he had been startled. Dusty blinked her golden eyes, as if they held wisdom unseen.

A smile spread across her lips and her ears flicked again, a habit she had. Well, he had just ruined her playtoy, for the frog was hopping away even more frantically now, frightened half to death from her fake attack and his true attack. So, in return, she'd get payback. Not true payback. He was part of her pack, after all. She'd just have some fun. Her day had already started off with her acting and thinking like a pup, anyways, why not continue? She was used to getting in trouble, anyways. She was the runt of the litter.

Dusty exhaled, straining her ears as she heard Sanger mumble to himself, scolding himself. Dusty's ears tweaked. Did the boy not know how to have some fun? She straighened herself up, pushing her weight back onto her haunches...

...and lunging! "You have a right to startle, Sanger!" Dusty barked as she sailed through the air, barreling herself into her pack-mate. She stumbled and rolled to the ground, into the soft grasses and dirt.

[iris]

Since the wind was blowing at his face and all of his energies had been focused on simply following his paws to wherever they took him, Sanger had not noticed the huntress stalking at some distance behind him. He was not an extremely keen wolf when asked to take a look at his surroundings. He was a dreamer, one who often walked with the wolves of old and listened to songs that were not his own. He was one who saw rabbits and wolves chasing across the stars in some endless hunt that danced on and on into the dawn. For this reason, he was somewhat wasted as a warrior, however he was an even worse hunter. He got caught up in his own little follies and fancies and would rather follow the scent of the unknown and dangerous than endlessly stalk some prey that would bolt at the sight or scent of him. He had no power for concealment, no need to stick to the shadows and crouch down, for he was the sort who would tackle things much too big for him and come off worse but still happy for having done it. He did not like to leave mysteries, did not like to take the road more traveled when he could seek something that no one had ever seen before.

For a moment after the frog had hopped out of sight, he sniffed at the wind, trying to separate some interest from the boring scents that he had tasted over and over. The wind hardly stilled on this flat plane, always rushing off in some direction or the other, scattering scents in a way that made it so that one could easily get lost. Sanger loved this. He could wander for hours, lost but at the same time not in need of direction, following scents that were scattered on the winds. For a moment, however, the wind had stilled, and the air grew stagnant and stuffy and bored. The tips of the grasses that he had bent down slowly climbed back up to the sky, and unseen creatures beat other tracks across them. But they were uninteresting to Sanger, who was not in the mood to chase after such fleeting creatures. For a moment he had sensed that something was wrong, although he couldn't quite put his paw on what it was. In fact, it was the redoubling of his own scent, that of a Torridwolf, different but essentially the same. The winds started again too quick for him to realize this.

Mere moments later, he became aware of something barreling through the grasses towards him. Instantly he was on his feet, hackles raised, tail outstretched in tension, body braced for the impact of some terrible enemy. He was hardly an imposting figure, even with his teeth flashing between his gums and his eyes hardening in the way that is characteristic of the terrified wolf. On impact he was thrown to the ground, instantly rolling to recover his feet as his brain rapidly sorted out the distance and time needed to attack back or effect an escape. But recognition dawned on him as he recovered his footing and looked down at the creature that had sprung him. His posture melted, his tongue lolling out for a fleeting instant in a wolfish laugh. He recognized the huntress, one of his own pack, and hardly an enemy. Her small stature was less imposing than his own gaunt frame.

In a moment his laughter had faded, and he gave her a critical glance. "Dusty, what are you doing here?" he was actually afraid that Jeremy had sent the huntress to stop his shirking duty. As a matter of fact, he honestly didn't know if he was supposed to be doing anything important around the pack today. There weren't many Torridwolves, and as a result the warriors (population: one) didn't really have to guard the borders very closely. If an enemy party were to attack, they would have trouble even finding the currently depleted pack members, who were likely off renewing the scent borders (basically, putting up flags that said: there are only three of us!) or hunting for their own fare. There were no elders or mothers to feed, and at the moment it seemed like he was a nomad again, hunting for his own food and roaming the Earth as if it belonged to him, with no real purpose but no real need for one, either.

Snapping himself out of his reverie, Sanger looked back at Dusty with his head cocked to the side in the manner of a dog. "Not that it really matters, I suppose. The packlands are getting rather boring these days." He was not chums with the huntress, that was for sure, but living at close quarters with her brought on a sort of amicable nature between them, a tacit truce that led them to neither malice nor friendship. He liked her well enough, she was good at what she did and of a naturally agreeable disposition, and she had a mischievous glint in her eye that had always struck him as amusing. He was something of a trickster himself, as shown by today's expedition, and like-minded canines were always welcome with him. He showed that he did not mind her company plainly simply by the stance of his body and his attitude, reserved but relaxed in a way that did not reject the idea of conversing with his pack mate.

[Dusty]

Before Dusty barrelled into Sanger, she saw blackish-gray form tense into that of a protective position. A thought flashed through her mind: what if he thought she was a stranger, someone that would cause him harm? Someone dangerous? No, he couldn't be that oblivious to the scents around him, she decided. He'd have to know the scent of another Torridpack wolf, or, at least she'd hope. She knew Ranger was famous for spacing out a little, tending to enjoy the older wolves compared to the younger ones, but that didn't matter much to her. He was a fellow pack member, nothing really mattered. It wasn't like they really got along or didn't. They were a bit mutual.

Dusty could feel herself impact against Sanger, and he was thrown to the ground, along with her. She rolled over in the dirt and grass onto her back, lying there for a second and staring at the sky. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Sanger jump to his feet as if she really were an enemy. He recovered himself within a second, though, and his features turned to a more relaxed pose, his tongue actually lolling out of the side of his mouth like a puppy. Dusty rolled back over onto her belly, almost laughing at him. It was an amusing sight.

But, then, his laughter faded and he gave her a critical gaze, playing the role of the older wolf. After all, almost everyone had to act older around Dusty. And even when they did, she didn't always listen. Dusty's ears flicked and she pushing herself into a sitting position, shaking dust from her pelt. "Well, I'm here because you snuck out of camp," she said, lifting her chin up and holding her head high with dignity. "I wanted to know what you were up to." Not that that would hold much surprise to most. Everyone knew Dusty was curious.

Dusty tilted her head to one side as a small breeze started back up, ruffling the grasses and both wolves' pelts just barely. In the summer months, the breeze felt refreshing. It was cool. Not like a river or stream, not that refreshing. Dusty lifted her head slightly against the breeze, savoring it. Wow, thinking of a stream or river, what she would kill to just jump into water right now. She looked up at Sanger from where she was sitting, nodding slightly. "Yeah, it's just a tad bit boring around home lately. So why'd you sneak off?"

[iris]

He listened to her response with amusement, his initial bafflement forgotten. Silently, he cursed himself for not having noticed that she followed him. Such a slip-up could be dangerous if someone really was stalking him. Not that anyone had a reason to, most of the time. "So, you followed me, huh?" he asked, chuckling a little bit. The fact that she had done so hardly surprised him. She was, after all, notorious for this kind of folly, and he almost welcomed it. Like all wolves, he was essentially a social creature, and he was good-natured enough. Plus, he was still a bit of a pup himself. "...cant believe I didn't figure it out sooner..."

Sitting down, he scratched behind his ear with his back paw nonchalantly, not particularly threatened by her presense or afraid that anything would come out of the fields to attack them or the like. He was much less paranoid than he had a right to be. He stopped and listened at her question. "I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," he murmured, his face carefully unreadable as he continued to try and dislodge some meddlesome flea from the tufts of fur behind his ears. Then, unable to help himself, he let out a sneeze of laughter, the wolfish laughing grin reappearing on his lips.

"No, seriously, I don't really know," he said, with a shrug to emphasize that he really didn't have a clue why he was out here. "I didn't want to hang around camp all day, and I guess there was just something calling to me out here. Something that wasn't quite as boring as hanging around all day doing nothing." He looked around him, where the grasses swayed lightly on the breeze, their tips dancing golden beneath the summer sun. "I have to say, this has been a seriously disappointing mission thus far." He flicked his ear, apparently deciding that it wasn't worth trying to get at whatever was biting him.

"So, now that you're here..." he began, but he had no idea how to finish that phrase. He didn't often think things through before they came out of his mouth. "Well, honestly, I don't really know. I suppose that things just might get more interesting. But somehow I doubt it. Lazy summer days..." He heaved a sigh, raising his nose to the air again. Still nothing to interest him. At least he had someone to talk to now, that was always a good thing. Sometimes he talked even a little bit too much... but just a little bit...

[Dusty]

Dusty resituated herself to a lying position again in the grass. She twisted her head around, licking at her side. Her tongue flicked over her fur, and a spot on her side that was a little raw from a battle a few years ago. She leaned away from her side, almost having forgotten that there was a scar there. She turned to Sanger as he spoke, a wolfish grin spreading across her features as he practically gave a praise out to her for not being found out by him. Sure, she had had practice with sneaking around and following others unseen and unheard, and it helped that she had experience hunting, being very good at her job. But, still, it was nice to be told you were good at something. And Sanger himself was a tad bit curious like her. She sat up again, unable to make herself comfortable today for some reason. Her ears perked up as she answered, "Well, I am good at what I do, and everyone knows it," she smiled, teasingly adding, "So don't feel so bad that you didn't catch me."

The small breeze quieted down, and the grasses around them stopped swaying. Dusty's ears flicked as the small meadow became quiet, having been listening to the sound of the grasses brushing against one another. Some thing in nature, no matter how odd they were, or even normal, always soothed. It didn't matter if it happened every day or not. Dusty just found, despite her playful personality, that nature was a sanctuary. It didn't matter who you were, everyone needed some alone time.

Alone time. The thought crossed Dusty's mind as she looked back at Sanger and he answered her question. "I can agree," she said, "Sometimes nothing interesting is going to happen, so you have to go look for it. I hope, though, I wasn't interrupting anything?" Dusty smiled at the thought that he called his wandering a 'mission'. Then again, Dusty called her mischeif 'missions' as well. But, truly, just because she was one to cause trouble didn't mean she didn't care. She really did hope she wasn't interrupting his, pondering, maybe? While she was one that was just plain curious, he was one that was curious about the things around him. She hadn't spoken to him much, but she knew that much by looking at him. Sanger, to her, always had a look of wonder in his eyes, ever since he had come to Torridpack.

Dusty tilted her head to one side as he said "So, now that you're here...", but finished his sentence after a moments thought. Dusty realized that with the crooked way she was sitting, she probably looked like an innocent pup. Dusty tilted her head to the sky. She watched the sun's rays play with the edges of the leaves up in the tree tops, soon the heat would start to sink in as the day grew on. She was glad that it was still early out, and that there was still a morning breeze. For some reason, she had an odd feeling about this summer. A drought, maybe? She had never had a drought in her time, but she knew of the concequences. Dusty looked back at Sanger. "I suppose. Summer always leaves an effect, like lazy is the way everyone should act. But I don't know, if you don't think anything interesting is going to happen, you can always make it happen," she said, adding quickly with a shrug, "Or, that's just the way I look at it." She didn't want him to change his views or anything. If he wanted to just explore nature, he could, even if it meant boredom to him. The way Dusty saw things, though, was that if the fun wasn't coming to you, you go to the fun.

[iris]

He watched her squirm around, seemingly unable to settle down, with a look of amusement across his face. He was feeling in fine spirits today, as well, and could hardly stay still in his own skin. Every so often the muscles under his coat would twitch with some restless energy, and his ears would flick in different directions, catching barely audible sounds. He nodded at her words, straightening out a patch of fur on his flank that had stuck up wildly. "You are," he said, turning back with a grin. "And if I had caught you, you wouldn't have been doing your job, I suppose." All the same, he was glad it was only Dusty. He generally didn't like being pounced on by something he didn't know was coming. Although it was his own fault, daydreaming again...

He half-listened to her speaking, sniffing at the air in an almost bored fasion, his nose twitching as he caught the wind. It ruffled the tips of his fur, a pleasant sensation in the stuffy heat. "Nope, you weren't. I was pretty much just sitting here doing nothing." He said with a grin. He shook himself lightly and looked over at her, his head to the side slightly as he studied her. For a member of his pack, he really hadn't gotten to know her very well. He supposed he ought to get to know those who were going to be around him constantly, especially if they were going to follow him away from the packlands whenever he left. He was still slightly befuddled by this whole situation. Of course, Dusty must have been bored, too... To follow him all this way.

Dusty was right in her assumption that she looked like a pup, but Sanger hardly noticed anyway. He was still a bit of a cub himself, following his little daydreams like this. He nodded at her sentence. "Yeah. It's the most boring season. Everyone just wants to lay around in the shade and cool off. Not me." Her next few statements caused him to tilt his head ocne again, pondering them silently. He honestly hadn't looked at it that way. He was usually too wrapped up in his own thoughts to try and see things from another's persepctive. It was just one of his weaknesses. "Hm. I suppose you're right." A mischevious grin crossed his face for just an instant, but then he buried it again, standing up and shaking out his fur.

Suddenly, as if without premeditation, he took off through the grass beside her, capering a little as he ran. Birds flew up at his approaching paws, and he snapped at them, but it was without real malice. The sheer joy of flight had taken hold of him, and he dashed on through a sea of gold, his black form occasionally visible as he bounded thorugh it. He was flying like a pup, his head held to the wind, his legs crossing and uncrossing as he ran. His laughter was heard over the wind that howled across his ears as he dashed, transported by pure joy. "Are you coming?" he called back to Dusty, not looking over his shoulder but simply running on and on towards... well, something. What or why were lost to hem, he only knew that he was here, now.

[Dusty]

Dusty stood up, swiveling her head around to lick her tail and gnaw at a bug that was bugging her. A play on words, she realized with a small smile. She flicked her tail afterward, then turned around in a circle, sitting down once again. She sometimes was oblivious to the fact that others were around her, and she sometimes got caught up in her own thoughts. It was as if she lived in her own little world. Her mind would be there one second, and then just completely leave the next. Dusty licked her chest fur once before smiling as Sanger handed out yet another praise. She flicked her ears, thinking to herself at the same time she really needed to get out of that habit. "Very true, very true. I wouldn't have been doing my job...which just calls out for more practice, and you sneaking out was the perfect opportunity for practicing."

She closed her golden eyes against another light breeze, listening carefully to the sound it made against the grasses and leaves. That was one of the sounds you had to get used to living in a forest. She couldn't imagine living anywhere else, without the sound of the breeze and leaves and grass. That's what made it home, and if there was no breeze, it was rather quiet. The birds and rodents didn't suffice to make such a calming sound. Dusty nodded as Sanger admitted he hadn't really been doing anything, pleased that she hadn't interrupted him, and he wanted her company. She could tell by his stance that he didn't much mind her being here.

Dusty flattened her ears back playfully and narrowed her eyes as a mischievous look crossed Sanger's face. That was the looked she usually got on her face. It was hard to imagine that this wolf was a year and only a couple of moons older than her, for he acted such like a puppy. But then again, that was probably what most thought about her. Not that Dusty really cared. She would never grow up, not when there was so much in the world to see. "Not me, either," Dusty agreed, watching as the look disappeared from Sanger's face. She frowned. She liked that look much better than him trying to compose his true curious nature. She watched him stand up, shake his pelt out, and then run off.

Dusty let out a bark of surprise, which turned into laughter as she jumped out of the way when Sanger ran past. She scrambled to her paws to turn toward the way he had took off in the tall grasses. Dusty's ears flicked as he startled birds that had been in the grasses, and they took to the sky chirping and cawing. She smiled, straining her ears forward when he yelled an invitation of "Are you coming?" She laughed again, ears flicking. "But of course!" She called back, bending her haunches and lunging into the grasses after him, enjoying the sheer joy of feeling the wind through her pelt and the grass tickle her fur, the pounding of her paws on the earth. She didn't exactly know what Sanger had planned, but she'd follow through with his plan if it meant feeling as free as this and not going back to the pack for a while.

[iris]

Sanger was running, his nose to the wind and his paws to the Earth. Presently, his gait changed. His raucous and pointless flight stretched out low across the Earth, into that low, deceptive gait that is faster than it looks. It was the gait that wolves before had employed on their long migrations, stalking the larger of prey animals. It was tireless and mechanical, body near parallel to the Earth. The stalks of grass tickled across his fur, faster and faster still. He was aware that Dusty was much faster than himself, a gift that was singular to the hunters and huntresses of the packs. Therefore, he did not slow down to wait for her to catch up. He knew that she would, eventually, draw even with him, no matter what kind of head start she had on him. It was as much of a fact as that wolves hunted and ate what they killed.

As usual, he wasn't paying any special attention to his surroundings, his fatal flaw. His mind was caught up in the way that the grasses parted willingly at his every steps, the way the wind howled past his ears, and the way that his own body seemed to know exactly how it was to move. Running in this way was not a mental task, it was almost perfunctory, passed down from years of chasing and being chased. In a way, Sanger was aware that millions upon millions of wolves had stretched out across the Earth in this way, had travelled or hunted or run from some great thing. He lifted his head, looking bqack a little to see Dusty running behind him, letting his tongue loll out happily. His gait did not slow perceptibly as he looked back, the joy evident in his eyes. He had no plan, only means.

Suddenly, the Earth opened beneath him, and he found himself tumbling. His heart seemed jerked free of his body for a moment, and there was not even half a second to figure out what had happened before his found himslef scrabbling in midair, tumbling head over paws down some precipice. A yelp of surprise was emitted from his lungs as his side suddenly made contact with water. for a moment he floundered, feeling as if he were going to drown, before his feet suddenly hit bottom. The water did not even come up to his belly, but he wasn't struck with the humor in this situation, he was too busy trying to figure out what had happened. Above him he could see where the Earth gaped like some dark maw, too high for him to reach except by standing on his hind legs. Of course! He remembered now! Sinopa was said to have an underground cave system, although he had always thought it was rumor.

"Dusty, watch out!" he called, stretching up as far as he could and placing his paws on the edge of the gap in the Earth. He scrabbled for a moment, unable to get a good hold with his paws, or see anything above him, before crashing back down into the water. The reason that the pool was here, no doubt, was the rains that sometimes fell here. The water had no ways of exiting these caves, or at least non that was obvious, although the fact that the pool branched off into a sluggish river that flowed down some passageway out of view. For the moment, Sanger wasn't really concerned with finding a way out, because the panic hadn't set in yet. Where he was, there was little hope of being able to climb, and no obvious way to reach the hole into which he had fallen.

[Dusty]

-----------------------------------

Dusty had taken off after Sanger without really thinking, dropping into her natural running, that of a hunter. Not her usual playful running when she just kind of trotted, no, this was running. Dusty opened her mouth, letting out a bark of happiness. The summer air hit her pelt with warmth from the sunshine and the promise of hot days to come as summer stetched on. Dusty's tongue lolled out of her mouth, and she whipped her head around, closing her mouth as her tongue took its usual place.

The soft, tall grasses parted for her as she traveled through an ocean of green. Her paws thudded the floor, and Dusty could feel herself kicking up dirt, probably leaving a trail of dust behind her. She smiled at the play on words. Her name was Dusty, and she was leaving a trail of Dusty. She bent her haunches when her back feet hit the ground, pushing herself forward in a surge. Her tail streaked out behind her and her ears flopped in the wind.

She had lost sight of Sanger up ahead, but there was a tingling in her paws and the thumping in her chest of her heart beating, following the thudding sound of her paws hitting the earth that told her she'd soon catch up. Probably in a milisecond, knowing how fast she ran. Hunters of the pack were trained for running, and specifically picked for their lean figures that would probably help with the 'light and fast' on their feet aspect.

Trailing after Sanger's scent, Dusty heard his voice. "Dusty, watch out!" She was running pretty fast, but she twisted her body sideways and skidded, stumbling over her own paws. Dusty caught herself before her nose met the earth, and she let out a long, ragged breath. She straightened herself up, ears cocked forward. "Sanger?" She called. His voice had sounded a little bit...echo-y, if that were even a word. Dusty didn't know. She pressed herself low to the ground and opened her mouth, scenting the air. Sanger's scent was still strong. Practically crawling on the ground through the grasses, Dusty followed his scent until she came to a gap in the earth. She peeked over the edge, golden eyes widening and ears perking up. "Whoa...that's a ways down," she murmured, "Sanger?"