Anjel had never been the social sort. Never been described as all that friendly, either. Oh course, on had to take into account that not many ever met him either. The few that did, well,..thier oppinions poke volumes.
His territory was small. Its perrimiter was marked, on the west side by a small brook, the north by a river from which the brook spawned, and to the east and south, a rocky ledge.
It was a chilly winder day, and much of the foilage was gone from the branches over head. Anjel was incredibly relaxed by this -- not many could hide, when there was nothing to hide behind. And so, with his air of arrogance and pride, he strode through the fallen, wet leaves - a worn path from previous patrols - as eyes the color of the grey-blue wintery sky above, casually surveyed the scene.
There was a rare, contented, smirk to the ulaya's face. Some would consider that in and of itself a sign of the appocalypse. Oh, but there were many things others did not know about him. Inside, he was far more complex that the rough exterior he commonly portrayed. Still, this was his territory, and of it, he considered himself its lord, and as such-- ah forget it. He was,...happy,..for the time being.
