[PRP] Run Away Little Doggy

[In Good Faith]

"Duck! ... Left! No, your other left." Finch suppressed a groan of frustration, having realized that while he had spent seasons with his boys, they had not received the training truly necessary to be lethal fighters. He was now attempting to rectify that circumstance with daily drills and trainings with his twin sons. Right now they were doing drills as if in an army camp, training their muscles, reflexes, and stamina. If they were going to be ready to go on their first viking, they had a lot of work to do.  

[In Good Faith]

Marzipanz

Fintan felt slick with sweat and panted, choosing to take his father's silence as a break in their drills. He fell to his back, legs awkwardly posed in the air as he attempted to catch his breath. "Are... we... almost done?" He asked breathless, gulping in the air that didn't seem to really cure his need for oxygen. This was day three of Pop's new routine and it was kicking a**.

Lochan felt equally run down, his muscles spasming as he panted in an effort to fill his burning chest. Still, his lips tucked up a little in response to his brother's more outspoken complaining and didn't make an effort to stop him. He'd noticed Pops was usually more difficult on Fintan all the more for it; fine by him if it meant he went easier on Loch. Taking a quick look at the sky told him, though, they were only about half way through their "drills." The thought of picking it back up made him want to dry heave.  

[Marzipanz]

The day was dragging on it seemed. That's to be expected, though, if one were to wake at the crack of dawn. Kuende certainly hadn't been planning to rise so early for he was the lazy sort. A Wild Dog that very much indulged in his sleep, but being abruptly woken by a territorial attacker was enough to get his blood pumping and his feet moving. Whenever presented with an escape route the canine was quick to take it. It just seemed silly to him why anybody would choose to stay and get roughed up when you could easily avoid such discomforts. He lived a solitary life, and when you do that an injury could be the beginning of a death sentence. For if one couldn't move, one couldn't hunt. Perhaps he might be able to get by with scavenging for scraps that lions leave behind but- Oh wait. He often did that anyway. Still, being mauled just wasn't something Kuende actively searched for.

Ah, yes. His paws. The male had traveled such a great distance that the sun had the time to cross over the sky. It was only when his stomach groaned for a meal that he took his time to stop. Surely by now the brutish beast that had taken a bite out of him had given up on their chase. There was no way that he was still in their territory, right? His paws began to slow their pace, showing the toll restless wandering had taken on him. It had been some time since the sly dog had been so spooked, but with a bite this deep in the nape of his neck it was no surprise. The further he could get from those bad lands the better. Little did he know though that he had stumbled into an area that held more danger. Now there was more than one threatening presence, and this time... they were lions.

"Had they caught me at any other time the tables would have been turned. Aye, what a coward. Getting the jump on me while I had my eyes shut. Completely uncalled for, and not to mention their stench was blinding! I had no choice but to run, unless I wanted to have the smell singe my nose with it's odorous stank." Perhaps it could be seen as insanity to talk to one's self, but if he didn't then he might not speak at all. Kuende was a lonesome dog, but boy did he love to hear the sound of his own voice. It didn't bother him much to think about how odd it was that he held full conversations with himself at times. It probably didn't help him in the long run though. He was gifted when it came to being a thief but sometimes his mouth worked against him. Even now he should have been silent to avoid being detected in unfamiliar lands, but here he was blabbing away. That coupled with the scent of dried blood clinging to his fur didn't exactly help him much. A boisterous Wild Dog carelessly pawing his way through the stormborn lands. Had he been more cautious he might have heard the sound of heavily panting lions off in the distance.

wc: 540

In Good Faith

 

[In Good Faith]

“No, son, we’re not...” Finch rubbed the space between his eyes with a paw. After a few moments, he continued. “Alright, let’s trying some-“ he cut himself off, quirking an ear back with a suspicious expression on his face. When the boys attempted to speak, he waived an impatient paw in their direction, silencing which ever one. Finnan didn’t know everyone in the pride and so it was not the voice that specifically peaked his interested. But what was being said was all the more... odd. Taking a moment, he attempted to fill his lungs with what the wind could tell him. Nothing picked up, but that was because the wind was not in their favor. “Come on.” He told the twins, not looking back over to them, but leading the way towards the voice. “Keep low, don’t speak, and keep your eyes open.” He wouldn’t have to tell a well trained Stormborn this, but his sons were less than well equipped. Their mother had hunt for them for too long and they hadn’t developed even adequate tracking skills yet. “It may be nothing but...” he didn’t continue but instead lowered himself into the grass and moved forward.  

[In Good Faith]

Fintan had been the one to try to speak, of course. He gave his father an annoyed expression when brushed off but remained silent and listened instead. It was a weird thing to say for a stormborn. Who was trying to catch a viking? Very few lions out there would try such a thing, to his knowledge at least. Having had adequate time to slow his breathing, the lion shared a glance with his twin and shrugged. His eyes said oh well, no more drills so...

Loch's mouth twitched at his brother and nodded, turning towards his father with attention. He too tried to catch the smell in the air but it came back with the same scent that permeated the entire territory: grass, the musky smell of the lions and lionesses that roamed here, and a faint hint of rain that may or may not reach them tonight. It was Loch's opinion they were going to end up finding a reaver boasting about some viking with a comrade which had been botched by someone. Knowing his father's instincts like he did, though... it kept him interested. He followed suit, mimicking his father's posture, low in the grass.

Marzipanz

 

[Marzipanz]

The wild dog continued his strenuous venting. Talking soothed him, and yet he had been running out of things to complain about. His poor neck, his back, and not to mention his paws were sore from carrying his body across the lands. Kuende was alone, and he learned to live this life mostly because he had no other choice. If he were to sit in silence day in and day out the poor male would soon grow mad with loneliness. A quick remedy for this was to chat with no one in particular. The wind was his new best friend as it always listened to his problems and even gave a response every now and then by whistling through the trees and tall grass.

His mouth ran on and on until his friend, the wind, told him a secret. There were others among the grass. It caught their scent and carried it to his nose as if hand delivering a precious package. Immediately it caused the canine to freeze in his steps, eyes focusing just as his ears perked up. "Where have I even wandered to?" He muttered to himself, trying to grasp a landmark or some other clue as to whether or not these were hostile lands filled with dangerous residence. Against his better judgement the dog carried forward, into the wind where surely the source of this unfamiliar smell came from. He was approaching the lions in their crouch. What a foolish thing to do, but he was tired, and if a chase were to take place now he wouldn't be able to outrun the stranger.

"Maybe you'd like to come out of hiding? I hate to break it to you but this whole sneaking thing really isn't your niche." Don't insult them, Kuende! What if they don't have a sense of humor?

wc: 305

In Good Faith

 

[In Good Faith]

The animal was clearly a conversational one and it took little time before Finch to spot it was not a a lion but in fact a wolf dog. Someone's thrall perhaps? He didn't think so, not at the mention of 'wondering.' With a brief grunt of satisfaction, the father decided this would be a good teaching moment for the boys.

Before he could communicate anything with his sons, however, the wolf dog had obviously spotted them and began an approach. Finch grimaced, sure that his sons had spoiled their stalking. Casting a glowering look at the twins, he turned them back onto the wolf dog. Well... he was going to make this rather easy, wasn't he?

"Sneaking isn't, huh?" Finch grunted again, a canine peaking out of his maw. "Well, unfortunately for you, wolf dog, sneaking may not be. But hunting is." With that, the lion crouched, eying the dog with a glisten in his eye.  

[In Good Faith]

The boys had certainly been less than conspicuous in their stalking. Namely, Fintan had failed to hide almost any of his rump in his crouch and Lochan was not nearly as light footed as either is father or brother. If you asked them, though, it was their coloring that had foiled their camouflage. They met their father's grimace with adequate expressions of guilt, heads ducked.

At their father's words, however, both ears perked up noticeably.

"A hunt?" A toothy smile showed on Fintan's expression as he looked to his brother.

Lochan grinned back with a nod before mimicking their father's crouch as best as he good. "Run, run little doggy" he murmured more for Fintan's benefit than anyone else's.

Marzipanz