Waiting Game ... open

[Duchanéir Olc]

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/3329lxv.jpg] The jungle was the most appealing place. The hot weather, the easy hiding places, the already soft ground. It was a maze that tickled Duchan's fancy, so much so, that he was forced to enter it. He had been walking for days, without any luck of finding someone who would truly be interesting in hiring him on. And yet, part of him didn't really care. He didn't mind the aimless wandering all too much, but it did feel nice to be part of something, to have a task that he needed to complete. The only thing wrong with the jungle was the mud and the humidity. Beads of sweat formed on the hybrid's brow, trickling down his face and off his snout. If he stayed here, he knew he's become relatively used to the heat. Until then though, he'd constantly be trying to find ways to stay clean. His huge paws sunk into the mud, leaving bits of dirt on the fur. He twitched, but, knowing that this was a part of traveling did nothing. Not thinking about it was the best way to ease his OCD. Soon enough he'd be either, further in the pack lands, near their water source, or out of the jungle and moving onto somewhere else. Until then, it was a matter of waiting. He had heard tid bits of the group which claimed the jungle as their home. Some sort of mafia, he had been told, and had been warned to stay away. The leaders were ruthless, the pack mates ferocious... and yet something was alluring about the whole idea. It called to him, forcing him to go out of his comfort level, into the mud, and venture forth into an entirely unknown world. It tickled at his curiosity, this whole mafia idea, and the more wolves told him not to go, the more he wanted to. So Duchanéir Olc was here now, amidst the trees and plants. Butterflies flittered around him constantly, one finally landing on his nose. He paused, staring down his nose in an attempt to see it. The action only caused his eyes to cross, and he quickly closed his eyes, regaining his focus. The pink insect stayed on his nose, crawling there for a moment before perching. Odd. He paid it no matter, and continued on. The butterfly stayed there happily, not moving despite his walking. Perhaps he was graceful enough to not jostle it around, causing it to scurry off? Either way it was strange. Duchan stopped though soon after, the butterfly still a flutter on his nose, only moving its wings slowly. The purple flecked male stood there, his paws hidden by the plants. It would be so easy to just hide here, until someone discovered his scent. He did nothing to try to hide it, not really caring much to do so. Lifting his head, he let out a short howl, alerting whoever was around of his arrival. They would come, he knew. It was just a waiting game now. D U C H A N É I R . O L C

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