On the Road to REDEMPTION(Eagle)

[Vrancho]

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[atrb=background, i30.servimg.com/u/f30/11/10/33/77/willow13.jpg] Willow trotted on the road, which had started to melt, the oozy black stuff sticking to her feet, making them not specked white but muddy gray, in the summer this often happened, especially on days like these, smoldering hot ones, where you couldn't even think it was so hot, plus with a long coat, you, like Willow was, would probably be on the brink of a heat stroke. So the blue merle and white female, trying to get a hold on herself, rushed over to the shady trees by the woods on the side of the road. She inhaled the wonderful scent of willows, for which she was named, pines, many different trees, their scent wafting into her strong nares; every dog, of course, had a strong nose, especially those that were bred to scent, bloodhounds, german shepherds, police dogs. Many dogs were bred for different purposes, they did different things. But dogs can do things they aren't bred to do, too. Willow was a fantastic hunter, for example, though she wasn't bred to hunt. The border collie female looked up at the sky, blue, with puffy white clouds decorating it like black spots covering a white dalmation. Willow settled down in a large hole that was inside a tree. It smelled like squirrel, the wonderful reminder of food.

[Eagle]

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[atrb=background,http://i1245.photobucket.com/albums/gg583/Quirky_Tea/tablemid-1.png] It was hot and Eagle was hungry. He panted and you could tell a dog is thirsty by how long his tongue was. He let his tongue hang loose from a gap on missing teeth that was on his right side. Whatever happened to him there, well, that was a story he'd be happy to tell. The sun was glaring overhead and he was lucky he wasn't a black dog, otherwise he would feel cooked. He walked on the grass near the road. His sighthound heritage meant that a flicker of movement would have him sprinting after whatever triggered that impulse. And there it was, ground squirrel of some kind. Had dirt on his back, but he moved in the wrong way and it was like it tripped a wire and activated something deep and primal within him. He went directly from his airy walk to an intense sprint with a double-suspension gallop. All that meant is that his feet barely touched the ground. The squirrel didn't know what hit it. Eagle grabbed it in his jaws and crushed it, not knowing where he connected, but knowing that wherever he got it, it would hurt hard. He had the creature by the stomach and popped the squirrel like a tick. He went into a victor's trot, proud of himself. I've still got it. He ate the creature until his stomach was full and found a nice tree to lay beside. His muzzle was full of blood, so he didn't notice the scent of the female. But something bugged him enough to keep him from taking a nap. At first, he thought he was going crazy, but on further notice, he detected the scent that barely registered. When it came to matters of survival, Eags knew what he was doing. And, given how he grew up, it paid to be hypervigilant. Though, its cost was that he was almost always anxious. Eagle tilted his head and then went up onto his feet. He followed the scent, then thought he hears the small sound of an exhaled breath. He went on guard. He poked his nose inside the tree and got the full whiff of the female's fur. He jumped back and wondered what would be the best course of action. Would it be better to run away? He certainly could do that. He could even fight. His fighting style carried no honor and relied on speed and cheating to win at all costs. It was how he survived through all of this time. Here is where our hero poked the sleeping shape. He wondered if it was a maiden or if it was a dragon. In both cases, he decided he could handle it. Though, honestly, he could handle the dragon more. He raised a paw and poked the gray and black mottled fur and held his breath.

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[Vrancho]

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[atrb=background, i30.servimg.com/u/f30/11/10/33/77/willow13.jpg] The gray and white merle female was so tired, she yawned, stretched out as far as she could in the hole, trying to find a comfortable position, because though it was as big as a house to a squirrel, it was very cramped to a dog like herself, and it was shady, but being in such a tight, confined space seemed to make her more hot than she was out in the open, dusty road. Willow shook her fur, getting off the dust, but it just fell back on her because she was in the tight hole. Suddenly she felt someone nosing her fur. She yelped, frightened. Who was out there? She growled menacingly, and her growl rose to a high pitched, scared whine. Shaking all over she burst out of the hole. Before her was a handsome collie mix dog. He looked friendly, but Willow wasn't going to take many chances. "Who are you!?" Her voice was hoarse, seemingly forced from her throat, which resulted in another squeak. She hoped he would be nice, she didn't want to fight.