Roadwolf's portal for his random thoughts and ponderings


Skanodonwah: Chapter 2


Approaching carefully, Skanodonwah sneaks towards the clearing. He doesn’t smell humans, which he had expected to have detected where there was a fire. Instead his senses alerted him to a different scent. It was an animal for sure, but maybe it wasn’t quite as wild as the others he had met. Maybe it was a friend of the humans? He stalked around the underbrush quietly, curious but also nervous.

A shadowy figure laying by the fire catches his attention. A large black lump of fur curled up by the fire pit is murring softly as it breathes, barely audible above the crackling fire. He sits and watches for a while, as the fire dies down. His eyes barely visible through the dense underbrush on the edge of the clearing as he watches from between a few broad leaves. The creature is obviously sleeping, but what type of creature is this, he wonders. Read more

Skanodonwah: Chapter 1


Standing at the edge of a clearing having just crested over a tall mountain ridge, a lone wolf pauses to take in the sights around him. A valley lay before him, a cauldron of tall dark green pine trees mixed with patches of golden brown deciduous trees. A turquoise lake lay in the center of the valley, some patches of fog collecting near its center and floating upwards ever so slightly. The highest peaks of the mountains white with snow, against a gray sky. A cool wind chills the wolf, causing him to shiver as it disturbs his fur, and he lower his gaze a little. He steps out from the treeline, and begins to venture down the hill side. His tail relaxed, but his ears alert in this unfamiliar territory. His rustic brown pelt, with silver highlights, and a light gray under belly, providing good camouflage for him in this terrain.

He hurries down from the ridgeline, seeking the cover of trees and brush. He heads down the mountain side, towards the turquoise lake. The strong scent of pine now filling his nose, as he tries to sniff out any game. The ancient pine trees he passes are all twisted and wind battered. High up on the hill there is not much protection from the elements for these trees. Many have fallen down over the years and have created log dams between denser patches of trees. He navigates carefully around the overturned pines, and winds his way downwards, always sniffing for any new scents and trying to be stealthy and slick in his movements, as if he was moving with a purpose.

He is hungry and hasn't eaten in a few days. He had hoped to find some easy game in this valley, but so far hasn't seen or caught any scents other then a fresh Moose trail. He had considered following the Moose’s scent, but he knew that most likely, he alone could not have any chance against a Moose. Even if it was injured or weak. It was a hopeless temptation and he had known it. So he continued on wards, searching for something smaller. Read more