The Scavenger [ Haste]

[smartie]

It had been three days, since Rook had come upon this strange land of Kloteck, in the Port of it. Rakine was such a busy place, he noticed. Humans, and their canine companions, wandered the cobbled streets and dock, going about the same task, that they had gone about the previous day. Children ran around after their parents, doing minor chores for them, whether it be watching over a boat, or simply carrying working tools with them.

This, was such a boring place. The dogs were feeble, following only to the order of an old, cranky looking bitch, who's name he did not yet know. But he recognised her, because she had black ears, and a scabby scarf around her neck. One day, he hoped to show her, a piece or two of his mind. For now though, he had to go feed his grubby face. Lifting himself to his mitts, the male scurried quickly to some boxes, to stretch his muscles, and prepare himself to steal again.

Because the day was so nice, with a pleasant breeze sweeping the port, and the sun shining above, there were many man wandering around, taking advantage of the nice weather. Stealing food would prove to be a difficult task, especially since the only visible supply, was a basket of fish, lying practically in the middle of the dock. An easy target yes, because it appeared abandoned, but children were playing near by, supposedly guarding the stock.

With a grunt, he hobbled at a quick pace to the basket, weaving in and out of the legs of man, trying not to catch their eye. He stood out like a sore thumb however, being so dark as he was. Edging closer now, with a particular fish in mind, he quickened himself, hoping that he would not be seen. But as he wandered ever nearer, the basket was lifted by a woman, and carried away. Sulking, the brute wandered back to where he had been, and huffed.

[haste]

Being one of the nimblest dogs in the motley harbour proved to have pros and cons. Haste had perfected the art of running, and could speed away from danger until her pursuers gave up, still shaking scuffed up dirt and circling dust from their faces, but her lack of raw muscle earned her little the way of intimidation. The mutt could handle herself well, and there was no danger of her being grossly injured soon, but she had yet to establish herself as a strong power around these parts. When she wasn't trying to avoid the local wolf pack she was scavenging for food, which was becoming harder and harder. She was often forced to submit and sacrifice her pickings to groups of larger dogs - noone had the gall to challenge the half-wolf on their own, apparantly.

Occasionally boats would pull up lacking their trademark cat, and if she was quick enough, Haste could slip down beneath the creaky floorboards and hunt rats. She had become a very profound catcher, and could often kill and cram one or two into her powerful jaws before anyone heard the noise and came down to investigate. The trick was to bite low down in the neck so that they couldn't turn their head and bite back—she had learned this the hard way and had to suffer a week's worth of pain, stemming from a deep gash in her nose. Haste had never recieved an injury in hunting since. When food is a daily struggle, you can't afford injuries.

It was one of those days when the two-legs' pockets were shut tight, and their generosity tighter. The sun pricked beads of sweat from their smooth coats, caused them to shed their coats and threads, spurred them to haul their stocks out of the harmful rays. They seemed to pay little mind to Haste which suited her just fine. But it was still too risky to hazard a trip to the boats—that was an espionage best suited for the cover of night, when the guard dogs were sleeping and the two legs downed ale in the local inn.

Gathering the last of her remaining patience, Haste's icy blue eyes settled on a fuzzy mass of grey ringed fur not too far away. She watches the raccoon closely and crouched down out of sight and smell of the creature. Here was an easy kill—though, a thought vaguely crossed her mind... raccoons were lithe, he'd be a valuble business partner....

...What was she thinking?

Here was an easy kill.

[smartie]

It was nice days like these which made Rook want to just curl up and sleep. But he couldn't. Not with his stomach rumbling, and not with the racket that the people made as they hustled around the dock. Their voices were loud, booming, and they were irritating to listen to. The temperature seemed to rise as the day went on, although there was still that pleasant cool breeze in the air, making the day a little more bearable.

As the burly raccoon shuffled back to the pile of fish netting that he had laid beside, he did not even notice the half wolf stalking the docks. Today he seemed less observant than normal. Usually, he would have been able to pick out such a beast easily. Not today obviously, and he plonked himself down on the netting. Bored. Licking his ebony lips, the ringed mammal relaxed and shut his eyes.

He recalled his old home, and how there seemed to be an endless supply of grub for him to pick at. That port was a lot better than this one. The one he had left behind was more interesting, and lively, and he had fellow raccoon friends there. Here, he had no one. At least here he had no others depending on him to feed them, or for him to watch out for. Sighing, he curled his tail around his side, and flicked his ears. Sometimes he got lonely, in this strange place.

Rook was restless. After a minute or two with his eyes shut, they flickered open and he groaned along with the roar of his stomach. Don't think I'll be resting any time soon, he growled mentally, and shifted around. He needed food. Looking around, Rook observed the Port, and that was when he noticed a rather strange looking dog standing in the wake, looking at him. Or was it? It was hard to tell on such a bright day. Rolling his shoulder, he wondered what it was doing, and why the humans had not noticed it.

[ Don't reply to this thread, it's a bit old and I'm getting rid of Rook o-o ]