Clover was coming off a bit of a high.
Finally, after what felt like dozens of moons within the pack, she had finally gotten alone time with Old Snow. And it had been everything she had wanted. Well, sort of. The tale… I mean, as to be expected, was a little fantastical. But she liked to think that it was all true. That every creature and personality apparent in the story he wove was verifiable, every last bit of it. Sometimes, she preferred to live in the land of fantasy.
Right now, she was headed out of her den and into the general pack area, despite it being quite late at night. Most wolves were happily asleep by now, but not Clover - she had a bit of a manic energy coursing through her at the secondhand adventure she had witnessed earlier, and as such was unable to do much more than pace around the den area, lost in her own thoughts. So lost, in fact, that she did not expect to run into someone else.
Thunder was new to the pack.
Everything, down to the wolf skull he often adorned himself with, screamed outsider.
Hornfels was a family establishment, and as such it was a little odd for him to be out and about sporting the skull of one of the vanquished others assumed he left in his path. In reality, it was the skull of his late brother. He had died of starvation early in adulthood, and Thunder often wore his bones in memoriam. But no one thought to get close enough to him to learn such a fact.
No one, except for Clover.
Bold as she was, it was to be expected that eventually, she would approach the wolf. She had been in the Hornfels for quite some time and a part of her had grown a bit bored of the brand of wolf that lived here. Well, not bored, but things did seem to be a bit stale. There were no obvious hot players, no drama, it was just… it was just all peachy, really. But then Thunder showed up and she got thrown for a loop.
Thunder didn’t appear to be your average member of the Hollow; he was more gruff and rugged. But it only served to draw Clover closer to him. The mystery of it all was much different from the others she’d met here. And she was rightfully intrigued.
It was early in the morning, and Thunder was out and about, exploring the areas around the dens, when Clover popped up. She noticed that he wasn’t wearing what she thought to be his usual headcovering; she would later learn that he simply wore it in tribute, not out of a typical form of habit.
Clover approached the other cautiously, swaying her hips in a meaningful way as she did so. “Thunder? You’re new, right?” She acted as if she had no idea. But she knew. She was just biding her time until she could be more forward about her interest.
Thunder stopped in his tracks and appraised her, noting briefly that her blue- and green-tinted dye complemented his own in a peculiarly satisfying way. It was almost annoying, how well they matched, but he decided to ignore it. “Yes, I am relatively new. Who are you?” His voice sounded blasé, already bored with the idea of her character.
She decided not to let it affect her. Sticks and stones, love. “I’m Clover. I’m not used to seeing you without your skull on; you have quite the pretty face.” Smiling, she knew she’d been bold - but that was just the way she liked it.
Thunder quirked a brow, but remained unamused. If you’ll recall, the skull was of his dead brother. So, no, he didn’t enjoy the reminder of its presence. Even if there was a nice compliment attached to its back-end. “Thanks.” He said it flatly, then remembering to add on a monotone, “Nice to meet you.”
Not what one would define as hard at reading obvious signs, Clover took the hint. But the flat-out rejection only made her yearn for him more. Unlike with Invisible Shade, in which she had brazenly hit on him and then gotten rejected, she didn’t know that Thunder was gay. And had a mate. So there was still a chance!
“Nice to meet you,” she purred, flicking her tail in the air before stalking off, once again swaying her hips. If she couldn’t win him with her words, she’d do her best to win him in whatever way she could.
{WC: 765}
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