Name: Kora Species(dog/wolf): Dog Breed: Husky Gender: female Age: 4 *Personality & Description:likes to keep to herself, but is polite, doesn't speak much, taught to be most polite to boys. She has a pretty pelt it is black and white mixed together. She has blue eyes and a scar down her right and left eye. She is about 6 feet. *History: She lived with her parents but when the males killed her family and catched ehr and took her to there place and trand her to be evil and to kill any one who gets now them. They got scar of her when they saw her tiala nd ears because when they saw her she had a blakc hat on and her jenas covered her tail. When they found out they kicked her out when she was 11 years old. She then on lived in the forest witht eh wild. But hwen she found her way through her bad past she found a girl. They took her ina dn gave her food. When one day when she was sleeping the mother's mate kileld ehr and the little cub. She then ran from the house and found ehr self back in the forest she lived there for 7 years but she found a place in a street? Will they take her in or leave her out like the others?
*RPing Example: Kora padded over the asphalt quickly. Her sleek bod turned as she neared the corner. Her pacing was out of anxiety and desperation. Kora was not fond of being cooped up, she was a street dog, and was used to a being able to roam where she pleased. She shied to the back of the cage as a twoleg walked past her cage, barely paying heed to the dog whom coward in the corner. Plum held itself close to her bod, her barrel nearly touched the floor. Yes, she was afraid of people. Why, she did not know, but the constant pain of the scar on the top of her head, zig-zagging its way a few inches down the back of her neck. It was about five or so inches long, left from a sharp object and a quick jerk of a hand. Her amnesia sometimes confused her. Why couldn't she remember anything? She often pondered over it, and knew little about her family and younger days. Her memory, though, had began to return, slowly but surely. The clouded figure of a human was the most troubling of all the images. Often she wondered who he was, and what his impact on her life had been. Realizing that the twoleg was gone, she lowered herself to the ground quietly. Appendeges curled to her bod, plume curling around her lengthy pillars. Her crania rested upon her mitts, he mind in deep thought again. Other: nope
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Name: Dracula or drac Species(dog/wolf): Mixed Breed:White Shepherd and husky Gender: male Age: 3 *Personality & Description: Drac is two dogs in one: who he is and who he wants to be. (Metaphorical, mind you, he's not crazy) Who he wants to be, which is the Drac other dogs meet, is a cocky and confident mutt. He dreams to be the icy jerk that everyone admires for staying cool under pressure. He is intelligent, but not witty, and acts uncaring to those around him. He does some wild things, feeling uncomfortable around others in spite of his understanding of them, and often will blurt out the first thing that comes to his mind, no matter how random and nonsensical it may be.
The truth of it all is, Drac is hopelessly compassionate, incredibly nice, and it's a pity he feels compelled to hide it. He never has anything but good intentions, and would do anything to insure the safety of his friends, in spite of how cold he may act toward them. He is amazingly intuitive, able to look deeper into situations and read others like a book. Too bad none of this insight is saved for himself, as Drac chooses to ignore the harsh reality of who he really it, and how much of a fake he's trying to be in spite of his lovely, authentic personality. He just wants to be liked and admired, thus he had created his arrogant front to be the imposter of his true self.
Dracula seems to be tough, pretends to be invincible, and he's terrified of being a failure. He hates to make promises, in fear of breaking them, and lives within his own self-doubt. Contrary to his cocky attitude, he doesn't have any faith in his own abilities. But he's brave when it really matters and counts, and with a little encouragment from those who really need him, or care about him, he can re-discovered what an able-bodied creature he is.
*History: *RPing Example: The hooded figure seated at the long oak table felt like he'd been there for hours, pouring over books he'd torn down from the library. He was about to fall asleep over his work, and already he had started making himself comfortable. He'd pulled off his gloves, exposing his parchment white skin, and he'd even set his sword off to the side. This castle was guarded by a beast, and the ghostly figure who sat at the table did not fear any sudden appearances of Heartless or other enemies. The only thing that had him the least bit worried was if the beast himself decided to come down here to take a look around. Thus far, the almighty ruler was a no-show, leaving the hooded phantom at peace. Thus far. A concept that should be emphasized, for the ghostly figure's moment of tranquility was to be, from here on out, short lived.
The book that was laid out before him suddenly lifted from the table, and the hooded form froze in surprise as the text became suddenly larger, and he moved out of the way just in time as the heavy book came flying into the air, collapsing in a heap on the ground. His back arched until he was parallel with the floor, with one bare palm pressed to the ground. His legs swung out from under the table and over his head, coming back behind him in a curious, seated back-flip. He was left in a crouch and dove forward to grasp the hilt of the sword he set behind before preparing himself to fight this new enemy. It was a Neoshadow, who had literally materialized from beneath the book he'd been reading in a surprise attack. The phantom found this a bit amusing, knowing that he'd been caught off guard because of his sleepy state. He was wide awake now, and apparently unaffected by the sudden appearance of two more Gargoyle type Heartless at his flanks.
The figure in the black hood dashed forward, planting his boots onto the sturdy table while swinging his katana down and around. He hacked his attacked apart, and sneered as it dissipated back into darkness. Now he just had to worry about the other two coming at his sides. The katana, otherwise known as Heartbreak, was actually thrown at the Gargoyle to his right, stabbing the creature through the middle and continuing to fly, Heartless and all. Finally the blade came to a stop into one of the bookshelves that line the wall, pinning the angered, and agonized Heartless there like a thumbtack through some kind of grotesque office memo. Now without a weapon and yet another Heartless to deal with, the ghostly man reached for the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a lighted candlestick. It wasn't much, but it was all he had, and he used it well.
The gold-plated ornament was thrashed across the face of the oncoming, flying Heartless, and the monster surprised him by letting out a loud "ouch!". His hidden face contorted with confusion as he watched the beast writhe and twitch on the ground, stunned by the direct hit. Slowly the man in the black coat hopped down from the table, approaching the downed Heartless and stepping cruelly on the short, but muscled neck. For now the creature only garbled out choked, shrill cries and groped at the air as if to try and tear off the hidden face on the conquistador who loomed over him. The figure peeled back the hood, exposing an extremely pale face and nearly white hair. Gray-blue eyes were locked on the Heartless beneath him, and the ghostly pale man clicked the two piercings of his lips against his teeth curiously. Ouch? He wasn't aware that Heartless could speak, and his suspicions grew. Yet in spite of his curiosity he didn't hesitate to blast the dazed, and very pissed Heartless into oblivion with a simple ice spell.
He then moved onto the Gargoyle still pinned to the bookshelf by Heartbreak, only to find this Heartless equally as angered. With all disregard for pain, the monster had started to twist its body around, pulling the blade through its belly across and through its body, desperately trying to tear itself free to attack the albino-looking man in front of it. "Mindless," the ghostly man remarked and shook his head. He grasped the creature's ankle tightly, and ducked his head back to avoid a clawed hand that swung in his direction. It was almost amusing, watching this creature struggle. Let it be known that this ghost was not a particularly cruel man, quite the contrary. He didn't like seeing people in pain. The amusing part of it was that he and this Heartless were in almost the exact same position in life, and while they could have made great allies they chose to hate each other instead. It was ironic. "But determined. I'll give you that."
It took one simple movement, a hard pull on the ankle he had hold of, to turn things for the worst for the Heartless. The sharpened edge of the sword plus the strength behind the ghost's arm sent the katana tearing through flesh and bone before finally bursting out the creature's other side, having arced upward to slice through its chest cavity all the way out of the junction of his neck. The body dropped and disintegrated into a purple and black plume before it even hit the floor. The ghost, as he called himself, was grateful that they simply vanished. He didn't think he'd be able to continue his reading with a bunch of monstrous bodies lying about. The form turned around before suddenly being startled by a voice, the same who had made the exclamation of "ouch!" when he struck the Heartless with the candlestick, which was still in his hand.
"Bravo, monsieur!" The voice came from his flank, and he whirled around to face-- the air. The ghost grit his teeth, lips drawing back to expose some lengthy and sharp canines. "Show yourself!" He barked. He had a short temper when it came to being played the fool. He'd been kept as a pawn for too large a portion of his life to put up with it anymore. A tap came on his shoulder, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a flickering flame. Immediately his head snapped to the side, his breath caught in his throat as he came face-to-face with the candlestick. And that was just the thing, it had a face, an it was grinning at him. Too bad the ghost was a little set off by the fire, he hated fire.
"Surely those beasts would have taken my own heart," the candlestick elaborated. For the moment the ghostly pale man was much more concerned about the tiny waving flames at the ends of the ornament's.. arms? Could they be considered arms? He didn't even seem bothered by the fact that he was talking to a candlestick. He'd had plenty of experiences that were way more strange, but he would admit that he felt a bit uneased by the fire being swung about so carelessly. It wasn't as if it were an inferno, but it was close to his face, and made him uncomfortable enough to set down the talking gold piece just to get it away. "You saved my life."
The ghost looked down and away at the candlestick's words. He shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, trying to be indifferent. He didn't want to be the hero. He never woke up in the morning, thinking "I feel like doing good, and that I should go save someone". He didn't want the responsibility on his shoulders, because in the end their blood would be on his hands, and he'd have no one to blame. Still, the ghost always seemed to end up helping others in the end. "That wasn't my intention," he replied back cruelly. From the corner of his eye he watched a frown play across the face of the ornament, before quickly being replaced a warm, friendly smile. He just didn't give up, did he? The ghost didn't understand why people insisted on him being so cruel. They just couldn't leave him alone.
"Regardless," the ornament stated. "You did save me. I am Lumiere, and you are Monsieur...?" The ghost knew very well that he was obliged to introduce himself, but for the moment he was still a little upset that this Lumiere fellow was dead set on sticking around. Why did he have to care? It bothered him to no end, and his mood explained his short, disrespectful response.
"I'm a ghost, can't you tell?" he barked back. The phantom wasn't aware that his shoulders had raised themselves higher and closer to his ears, hunched as if he were to pout. He certainly looked the part of a two year-old, with his frown and glare, folded arms and tensed muscles. Too bad he'd destroyed the image of a toddler already when he destroyed those Heartless, and not to mention the "snake bite" piercings that stabbed through his face.
"Oui, but even ghosts have names, no?"
The phantom growled something beneath his breath, yanking Heartbreak from its place sheathed in the bookshelf. He set the weapon back down on the table just to appear intimidating, and then once again spoke. Finally the unsociable ghost gave in, once again looking to the floor for solace as he spoke. "Dagobert, that's my name."
Lumiere gave a sage nod and another friendly grin. This guy didn't seem to be as bad as his first impression told. It wasn't like him to be cautious, but the last person who came into the castle dressed like that, Xaldin, had been nothing but trouble. This situation contradicted the last, for it seemed that this "ghost" was the one that was troubled. "So, Monsieur Dagobert, how can I help you?"
"Help?" Dagobert questioned, honestly confused by the offer. He'd just been rude, uncaring, and outright spat at the golden ornament, and he was offering a hand to help? This guy was even more strange than he could've imagined. The phantom managed to shrug it off, figuring that if aide was offered, he may as well take it. This library was huge, and he didn't know the first place to look. "I guess.." He muttered, thinking over the offer carefully before giving another sigh. "I'm looking for a report. It will probably just be in pages, in a file or folder.. maybe a book. Written in a document-style. Just research notes."
Lumiere thought this over carefully before giving a nod and a wave, a signal for Dagobert to follow as he skipped off of the table and down along one of the long stretches of bookshelves. It still amazed the ghost how extraordinarily huge this place was. Whoever this Beast was, he must like to read. Too bad they didn't look like they'd been used recently. Most of the books here were left to lie and collect dust. It was a shame too. Each bookshelf was a towering pier of knowledge, waiting for any curious reader to stumble on.
"Right over her, Monsieur," Lumiere remarked and pointed toward a specific junction to where one wall of books met the other. Dagobert only gave a nod, stepping past the candlestick and toward the shelf. He picked up one book at a time, thumbing through the loose-leaf paper and files. So far he hadn't found anything that particularly interested him. Mostly there were hand-written accounts about the castle, its inhabitants. Kings and queens of the past, ancient diaries, a few snippets about Heartless and former Keyblade wielders that had stopped by the castle centuries ago. Dagobert was left to search, listening to Lumiere taking his camouflaged place back up on the table. He assumed that he was resting, but he wouldn't really know. Did candlesticks need rest anyway?
"No use.." The ghost growled beneath his breath. While he knew it wasn't true, that he still had plenty more books to go, he was tired. He was grumpy. The last thing he wanted to look at was another book. Dagobert stumbled back to the long oak table once again, deciding that perhaps it was best to take a break. Hey, you, if you've actually read this far into this post, you get a cookie. He'd been reading and searching non-stop for hours, and he knew that if he read anymore about the exiting history of this cursed castle that his blue and gray eyes would start to bleed. The ghost slumped down into the large furnished chair that had served as his previous throne. His elbows were anchored onto his knees as he cradled his forehead in his palms, fingernails digging at his scalp. He looked almost like he was trying to claw his brains out. Other: nope
*Personality: Tai is known as more of a runt. She mostly hides from danger, but tries not to be afraid. She tries not to pick any fights, and is more of the loveable type of wolf towards humans. Tai is curious, but not daring. She knows when things get too dangerous, but if it's for something she loves she'll fight. Her favorite thing to do is run, and she's faster than most other wolves.
Description: Tai has light brown fur, with lighter brown markings on her underbelly, muzzle, eyes, and around the edges of her legs. Around her front right leg are four round metal rings that a former owner had put on her. They're small enough to not fall off, but loose enough so they move on her leg freely. Picture:
*History: From a pup, Tai was a very curious wolf. She wandered too far from her parent's den one day, and found a nice old lady who took care of her for two years. After that, she died, but Tai stayed in the town that her owner had lived in, living on the streets as a stray.
*RPing Example: Tai peeked her head out of the alleyway, looking around for something to eat. She saw a tipped over trashcan, and immidiately went to investigate. Digging her muzzle through the contents, she pulled out old rotting meat. Tai carried the meat over a little ways, then laid down on the frozen ground and picked a piece of the meat and chewed on it, trying to remember the taste of delicious canned dog food she used to get everyday.
Site Name: Real Life URL: http://musicart.proboards91.com/index.cgi Type: Human Plot: None Intro:We all know that life is hard. Sometimes its more than hard, sometimes its just plain difficult. We have all created our perfect dream life. We have all created the perfect fairytale life ... Marry a rich man. Marry a beautiful women. Move into a large house , have children, live a happy care free life. But what really is life? Something that you just repeat day after day? What really is a day? 24 hours? We all know that life isn't the same as it once was. It used to be just you and your folks sitting in the grass gazing to the stars. Just looking to the night sky. Where have those times gone? Where did they go? Why did they fly by so fast? Can we go back to those times? The answer is no. No we cant. we must go on with life. We must create dreams that fit us. Some dreams may be created then forgotten. No matter what happens we must go one with our "Real Life" So now answer this one simple question ... What does your future hold? Add our banner to your site! <a href="http://musicart.proboards91.com/index.cgi"Target="_blank"><img src="http://i67.photobucket.com/albums/h291/ScarletsGraphixs/Site%20Banners/RL.jpg" width=75 height=36 border=0 alt="Real Life"></a>
Sandaa~I Howl With The Lightining... « Result #4 on Apr 6, 2006, 3:20pm »
Name: Sandaa [Japanese for Thunder] Species: Dog Breed: Siberian Husky Gender: Male Age: 2 yrs Personality: Sandaa is very ambition and always wants to be the best. You can tell that just by looking at the way he strives to be the alpha of the pack. Sandaa is also very short tempered. Once you get to know him, Sandaa is the sweetest thing you'll ever see in your life. History: Sandaa doesn't remember much, all he remembers is getting seperated from his team one day and wound up here. RPing Example: (This Is From A Cat RPG) The beating of the wings of a raven drove the pure bred on as he raced through the forest. The cawing of the said raven made the silver furred feline to dodge under a bush. When the black spotted feline came out of the bush, a seering pain shot through the cat's right shoulder, droplets of crimson splattered from the wound after the raven had taken a good chuck of fur and skin from the tom's shoulder. He howled in pain and glared at the bird with golden orbs.
The bird swooped down to peck at the cat again, but the tom leapt into the air to meet the bird, claws unsheathed and extended as far as they would go, and fangs beared. The bird shreiked as the feline's claws and fangs sank into the raven's skin. The tom dragged the bird back to earth.
The pure bred feline then cracked the bird's neck. The pure bred feline had silver fur and it was spotted black. Well, now the silver and black was now silver, black, and crimson because of the gruesome hole that the raven had made, it still gushed blood.
This feline's name was Ryu, which was Japanese for Dragon. He was rather lean and seemed to have been well fed. After a few minutes of licking his fur, he began to eat his fresh-kill, taking huge chunks of meat from the bird , his muzzle turning crimson from the bird's blood, a black feather hung from the corner of his mouth, he swatted the feather away with a paw and continued eating....
They Call Me Sandaa. They Nicknamed Me White Thunder. They Aged Me 2 yrs. My DNA Forms XY. I Am Loved By ----. I Have Sired 0. I Am Loyal To The ----. They Gave Me The Rank Of ----.
Naitto and Demon « Result #5 on Mar 28, 2006, 3:59pm »
Name: Demon Species(dog/wolf): Hybrid Breed: Siberian Husky and Timber wolf Gender: Brute Age:2 *Personality & Description: ^ I colored the eye NO STEALING! *History: Born in Alaska to a wolf mother and husky father, he was the only one who resembled a husky. However humans killed his parents and siblings, and took young Demon back down to California. He was abused and used in dog fights, but soon he turned on the humans who trained him. Having no trust for anyone, man or animal, he went searching for a home... ((Short verision)) *RPing Example:There was utter silence that dark night. The moon was perched in the sky, shining down upon the wolves at it's fullest. There were four wolves traveling altogether. The smallest of the four was a gray vixen who had black rings of fur around her neck and all four of her ankles. Her orbs were silver, best described as water like the river, and cold as they stared about the snowy wastelands. There was a pure white vixen, who had golden orbs which glistened with pride. A pure black brute, as black as midnight with forest green orbs was followed by a brute with brown fur and light brown orbs. The gray vixen with the black rings of fur, turned to stare at the others. "Are we not there yet?" She asked, her tone soft and calm.
"Whisper, you talk too much." The black brute responded, staring coldly at her. "Don't be so hard on her." The white fae answered, baring her white teeth. The black brute rolled the forest green orbs and continued to walk along. The brown brute sighed and stopped walking, staring at them all. "I'm tired of your constant fighting. I'm not taking another step further if you both don't stop." He told them, light orbs darting from the brute to the white femora. "Stop being such a complainer, Sal." The black brute answered, calling the brown brute by his nickname. "Don't call me Sal, call me by my full name." Sal. answered, baring his teeth.
"Whatever you two, come on let's go." The white femora interupted, walking passed them both. "Stop fighting, boys." Whisper said, with a smirk upon her maw. "Brutes..." Whisper muttered, shaking her head as he hurried passed the white fae. "I know, irritating aren't they?" The white fae asked, looking to Whisper. Whisper nodded, and said nothing more. Her gray auds were perked upon her gray skull. "What is it Whisper?" Sal. asked, noticing that she stopped. She shook her head and looked back at them all. "Nothing...I just thought...Nevermind. Come on let's go." Whisper answered, and she darted forward at full speed, snow was kicked up into the air as she did so. Other: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Name: Naitto Species(dog/wolf): Wolf Breed: Timber Gender: Brute Age:3 *Personality & Description:Naitto is cold and cruel hearted. He has no love for anything, and especially shows hatred towards a vixen dubbed Dakota. He doesn't talk very much being more of the shy and silent type and hates started conversations. He is unpredictable and always scheming and coming up with dark plans. He has a bit of a dry sense of humor and hates wolves who suck up to wolves of authority. He despises wolves of kind hearts and loves the thrill of the kill. He absolutely hates when things don't go his way and often throws fits.
He has a nasty temper, and unfortunately he can very easily be angered or offended. Naitto knows to submit to authority, although inside he loathes them. He can be rather sly and cunning at times and yet kind of thick headed. Whenever theres a rebellion or plot to take over Naitto is usually involved somehow or he knows information about it. He hates being cold and lacking in food, which he often finds himself lacking in. He's not much of a swimmer, therefore he strays away from lakes and rivers.
Naitto's main pelt color is beige or brown. Underneath both ears is a black streak of fur that goes straight backwards. The top of his back is light brown or a tannish color. He has a black streak of fur on his flanks as well. His legs have been colored light brown with a hint of dark brown. His orbs are dark brown and cold and darkish looking. Around the scruff of his neck there is a hint of black mixed with dark and light brown. He stands about 5 feet and weighs about 60 pounds. His posture is ever changing, never holding himself the same way he did one day or the other. Near the tip of his tail his tassle has been painted black.
*History: N/A *RPing Example:There was utter silence that dark night. The moon was perched in the sky, shining down upon the wolves at it's fullest. There were four wolves traveling altogether. The smallest of the four was a gray vixen who had black rings of fur around her neck and all four of her ankles. Her orbs were silver, best described as water like the river, and cold as they stared about the snowy wastelands. There was a pure white vixen, who had golden orbs which glistened with pride. A pure black brute, as black as midnight with forest green orbs was followed by a brute with brown fur and light brown orbs. The gray vixen with the black rings of fur, turned to stare at the others. "Are we not there yet?" She asked, her tone soft and calm.
"Whisper, you talk too much." The black brute responded, staring coldly at her. "Don't be so hard on her." The white fae answered, baring her white teeth. The black brute rolled the forest green orbs and continued to walk along. The brown brute sighed and stopped walking, staring at them all. "I'm tired of your constant fighting. I'm not taking another step further if you both don't stop." He told them, light orbs darting from the brute to the white femora. "Stop being such a complainer, Sal." The black brute answered, calling the brown brute by his nickname. "Don't call me Sal, call me by my full name." Sal. answered, baring his teeth.
"Whatever you two, come on let's go." The white femora interupted, walking passed them both. "Stop fighting, boys." Whisper said, with a smirk upon her maw. "Brutes..." Whisper muttered, shaking her head as he hurried passed the white fae. "I know, irritating aren't they?" The white fae asked, looking to Whisper. Whisper nodded, and said nothing more. Her gray auds were perked upon her gray skull. "What is it Whisper?" Sal. asked, noticing that she stopped. She shook her head and looked back at them all. "Nothing...I just thought...Nevermind. Come on let's go." Whisper answered, and she darted forward at full speed, snow was kicked up into the air as she did so. Other:
Name: Feather Species(dog/wolf): Hybrid Breed: Siberian Husky x Gray Wolf Gender: female Age: 7 months *Personality & Description: Feather is a lively pup who is full of energy. At times she can be quiet and shy though. She is loyal to those she trusts.
Feather's coat is foggy hue of light gray. Soft tan markings peek through the silver color around her face and legs. Ivory colors her legs, belly, and throat. Dark brown covers the bottom of her maw and reaches up around her nose. Her orbs are of a dark amber.
*History: Feather was born on the streets of Nome. Her mother was wolf who had wandered into the city and her father was a stray Husky who once was a sled dog. When she was 2 months old her dad was cuaght b the pound. A month later her sibling was hit by a car. When She was 5 months old her mother was shot while they were searching for food.
*RPing Example:I have another account (River) so I already posted an example... Other: n/a
Re: // Searching « Result #9 on Mar 16, 2006, 7:33pm »
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"Sure." She smiled. "I bet he'd love to be on a team" she nodded. Dakota was a good canditate, he loved other dogs. She figured he had grown up around them, being he always loved to play with them. Alicia smiled, as Dakota nudged her palm, expecting a treat. She made a slight clicking noise with her tongue, and he quickly sat. She pulled out half of a dog-treat from her pocket, and threw it to him. He quickly snatched it from the air, and gobbled it up. Smiling, she looked at Brayden. He was tall, and very handsome, she had to admitt. It was far and few between she would meet men like him. Most were snobby and rude, unlike him. Most hated animals as well. She felt slightly embarrased, being she basically thought she looked like crap. He hair was frizzy, and she wore no make-up. She had never been one to love the way she looked, or one to obsess over it. She simply never thought of herself as beautiful.
Re: .growing restless. « Result #10 on Mar 16, 2006, 7:16pm »
a I am Arabelle. Arab or Belle, whichever you wish, if you choose. she said quietly. Curved auds pushed back slightly in an unsure way. Arab was not one to be very self confident, being she was not to fond of her appearance. She had always been that way, ever since she had recovered from the inccident. In truth, she did not know what she was like before it. It was like a new start, though not a great one. It was a struggle, being she knew little to nothing about her past. Occuli peered at the ground. Her mass shifted to the other side, making it difficult to see her scar. This helped her relax, and with a small, quiet sigh, her muscles relaxed. Sniffer twitched as a few of the dogs began to bark, yet to her relief, no twoleg passed. Large crania turned toward the brute, a small smile crept across her maw. She was becoming more relaxed, her heart-rate steadied, her breathing became normal, and relaxed. Harks shifted forward, plume curling quietly 'round her mitts. b
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