Chance
Centena Accord
Hunter[M:-290][A:2]
Posts: 103
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Post by Chance on Jul 17, 2010 14:18:45 GMT -5
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Chance's breath came in ragged gasps. It was late afternoon and the sun had just begun to set. Violet eyes were wary of his surroundings. He did not like being here. Chance was chilled even though it wasn't cold. Maybe he was getting sick. Constant travel did tend to take it's toll.
In any case the small Keiyou didn't feel safe, and there was something in the air that set his feathers in a ruffle. Ears folded back he crept though the ferns searching for shelter for the night. The sooner he was rested and brought back up to strength the better he would feel.
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Post by zefath on Jul 17, 2010 15:26:20 GMT -5
Hawktalon sniffed the air cautiously. Irritating scents flooded her nostrils, dry, warm and stiff. She sneezed, trying in vain to get rid of the smells, but of course, it didn't work. Mosquito's bit her ears, constantly flying around her eyes and nose when she flicked them, only to return to her ears. This whole place annoyed her, all of it. The bugs, the smells, the unsettling stillness of life, save for bullfrogs and mosquito's. She would have to be demented in body and mind to live here and be happy.
Coughing a bit, she growled at the landscape. Her throat was dry from thirst, so it sounded more like she was choking than a growl. She sniffed in hopes of detecting life, but nothing showed. Hoe wretched this place really was!
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Post by harbringer on Aug 20, 2010 12:21:49 GMT -5
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The air was awfully humid and the temperature was blazing hot. The huge jungle trees carried drops of water and dew that dripped into the mouths to birds who drank them. Colorful flowers were scattered about this hot and wet land. A black, female Sennyo scowled to herself, cursing herself silently for getting lost in a place like this. Sweat and mud wet her fur and head. She shuffled though the plants covering the wet dirt, and insects drove her crazy.
How different this place was to Nocturne. A noisy, wet and humid forest filled with annoying insects was completely different from her cold northern home in the snowy, quiet tundra. Thirst plunged into her throat. Nocturne's tongue hung out of her mouth, dry and in need of water. She was desperate, so she took up a sticky drink of dew that was thickly covering a huge leaf hanging low. Licking her mouth, she longed for more.
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