patience in all its deferred glory [open]

[tovaana]

Winter had been very boring, cold, and tiring. There were only so many times he could turn his coat white before preferring his own coloring far more. Still, he knew before growth, came practice, hard work – and most of all patience. He had taken his time, many seasons before he had finally come to the pack to join – haste meant desperation, and Epicenter knew his target, but it did not mean he had to dwell on it all the time. His target was a vision, and the steps to get there were as clear as each step that had led him where he was. While he had had desire to leave the pack land to explore beyond the borders, he still needed to gain Blaise’s trust and assure her of his loyalty. What better way than to patrol, stay in the lands, memorize the lands, and get to know other wolves. Unfortunately the latter had been difficult to do, but he had time, he was not worried. Whether it was within the year, or four years, he would attain his ambitious goals. The difference between him and lustful dark hearted wolves was a simple attribute: patience.

There was a tingle in his paw as he walked, his ability letting him know that his surroundings were changing. That was obvious, but he let himself take on the colors of the bark around him, his whole body blending with the ancient trunks that had been spared from the fire long ago. To any distant observer, they may see movement, but it would be hard to tell what it was that moved through the trees.

The sun was out today. It was a relief from the cold and wild blizzards that had trickled into the spring. Spring. That was a season he could appreciate, especially with his new ability to shift colors to blend. The colors, flowers, blue sky dappled with clouds, grass patches where the sun hit the forest floor, bushes – the variety that gave life to the forest and valley, it gave Epicenter an extra bounce to his step, even with the damp floor from the heavy rains from the night before. The many facets of Spring reminded him of himself. The thorns to the thistles were nothing without the blooming flower – bitter sweet. His façade was usually simple as summer, unless you dug a little deeper, or if you were a goddess like Sheba. A small smile lit his features when he thought of their encounter. One day he would return to thank her, how many wolves did so? He continued to walk through the forest, his eyes darting in interest to his surroundings. After a while he felt the tingle fade as the reserves of his power drained and his coat returned to the pine green and bark brown tribal markings. There were limits to his ability, for now. Patience.

As he hit a clearing his legs paused by instinct, marking the spot as peculiar and important. By the smells, it was a popular place for the whole pack, and important to remember. His haunches lowered as he glanced about, trying to distinguish if there was a smell more fresh, perhaps someone he could go get to know.