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 Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2011 9:31 pm
 Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
That was solid advice, so far as Glory Storm was concerned. She'd been raised from day one to be distrustful of Winner and his brood, and she intended to heed that warning -- but not without knowing precisely what it was she was distrusting.
So far she'd gotten a pretty good idea of just what these others were like. Raven was a bully, Heart and Rabbit were cowards, Conquering Hero was a bully and a coward.
But this Bluebolt guy...he was a bit of a mystery.
Glory Storm was not a pup known for subtlety -- what was the point in being subtle when you looked like she did?! -- and so she decided to relieve this problem the only way she knew how: namely, by walking right up to him and striking up conversation. Was this consorting with the enemy? Maybe. But she liked to consider it more of a preemptive strike.
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Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 4:25 am
 Prior to her approach, the young pup had not been doing anything too entertaining. Lying on his side with paws stretched out before him, Bluebolt felt the effects of a mid-afternoon's butterfly hunt gone wrong. Chasing the buggers was one thing; their bright colors could rarely escape him. It was their flight patterns that got him, and had sent him tumbling down a hill covered in sharp thorny flowers.
Now he just wanted to rest. Golden orbs rolled about in his dark brown head until finally they were sealed away completely. He only just heard the female's footsteps as they came toward his back, and although her smell and presence should have alerted him--he was just too damn tired to do anything about it. So instead he growled, every part of him very still aside from the slight shake of his throat...
It was just a warning…please leave me alone…
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Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 10:08 pm
Ahh, there he was -- sprawled out like a lazy lump. She started toward him, then stopped, brow furrowing as she noticed that he wasn't just lazy, he was also hurt. She could see the tiny pinpricks of blood, the stiffness in the way he held himself. She recognized it immediately, because she too had recently been caught in a thorn bush herself.
Glory's yellow ears swept forward at the sound of his growl, and immediately she chided him in the tone a mother would, incongruous with her words: "Don't you growl at me! I could eat your for breakfast." She snapped, and closed the distance between them, flopping down in front of him. "You get into a wrestling match with a rose bush?" She asked, with a knowing sort of look.
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