How the Beauty Sings

[nozomi]

Wind whistles cheerfully between the high spires of craggy mountains; enormous sentinels with an authoritive frown befitting them. Soft white has covered this valley, hugging the lithosphere close, pushing back the frozen gray plants. A set of pawprints is thrown across the frosty tapestry: a unique painting is formed by the interaction of wolf and cold.

I'm only resting. Yeah, I'll get up soon.

Said tracks lead to a cave set under a ridge of blue-gray rock, overhung by thin icicles. In the early morning air these sculptures gleam, refracting light through a spectrum in their hearts. The so-called artist is not very proud of his work, lying on the rock floor so eghaustedly.

Snow has melted into puddles about his bod, a tawny brown in hue. Deep brown optics stare at the opposite wall in boredom . . . or is it just residue from his long trek? Presently the sovereign shifts and sits up, looking towards the entrance just in time to receive a wind-driven barrage of snow pellets to the face. With a suprised yelp the pup jumps back, tripping over a lump of granite and ending up sprawled on his back.

Why is it always me . . .?

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[dhole]

Dhole watched from afar. His blank expression gave everything away: the hatred; sadness. It all was there.

"Hello," the pup managed to rasp out, a ghost of a deranged smile splattered haplessly upon a white maw. He bared his teeth-he hoped it was a grin that the she-wolf saw-and backed away shyly from her, a his great white banner flung mercilessly through the cold winter air.

"...Do you like December?" he murmured, and it was a curse upon two black lips. He grimaced at their sour taced and back away, tail now hanging limp.

"Er... I'm Dhole. Call me Twitch, if you will."

[nozomi]

Rushiiba blinked snow from his eyes, scuttling onto four paws like an agitated bug when a voice came from across the snowy valley. Gathering himself together, Rushi pawed stinging snow from his optics. Hello! Shaking his dial to clear away the remainder of the flakes, the wolf smiled at the other. And in the same moment struggled to keep that smile up. His visitor was a white wolf, with two ebony stripes running along the length of his bod. A wicked-looking spiked collar hung around the other pup's neck, but that wasn't what caught his attention. A . . . a grin of sorts was just slipping off the other's maw as Rushi's eyes cleared.

Do you like December?

His smile dropped as though the strings holding it had been cut, but the sovereign was not disgruntled much. Rushi was intrigued, a youthful curiosity he hadn't yet outgrown. After a moment of blankly looking at the Dhole, as this wolf had introduced himself, the silent wolf righted his tipped dial and smiled.

If there's snow! My name's Rushiiba, but you can call me Rushi. Do you like December, Twitch?

The pup raised an eyebrow; the name sounded wierd to him . . . but that was okay. Twitch seemed nice enough even if he was a bit odd. Rushi knew he didn't have the sharpest senses in the land, and wouldn't hold it against another to have dull ones as well.

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[dhole]

Dhole chuckled, and it was the first chuckle he had chuckled in a long, long time.

"Well... I like the cold. And I like the joy we wolves feel in December. Joy is like fodder to me."

Again, he chuckled, and then breathed in to take in the crisp mountain air. For a moment, he glanced down a cliff, down the ice floes, and then back up toward Rushii, his first friend.

"...Are you joyful?"

Ugh... so many questions. Dhole had always been a questioning puppy. He had always questioned why he had no life; no soul. Why he was just a fighter. Why he killed everybody...

Everybody...

[nozomi]

Joy . . .?

Rushiiba watched his new friend, still intrigued by the odd wolf. Dhole's optics flicked about, taking in the rather scenic landscape; winter looked good on the earth. She wore the cold so gracefully, it was almost sad in its very own way. He was jerked out of the melancholy reverie by Dhole, again speaking.

Are you joyful?

Rushi stared at him, uncomprehendingly. It seemed that this flax-coated serigala did this more often then not. But after a shorter silence than the last he responded gently, staring at the snow with a little smile.

I guess I am . . . why not? It's good that you are, though! The smile had grown into a grin, matching the rapid waving of his banner. Hey--why are you here, anyway? I came from a city over-uh---- Rushiiba looked around hastily, a confused look in the brown optics. Finally he just sighed and shrugged good-naturedly. Ehm, somewhere.

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