A break in The clouds unexpectedly dappled the ground with spots of sunlight that filtered through the trees for the briefest of instances, gleaming on a coat of reddish brown fur as a huge wolf rocketed through the undergrowth, heavy paws thudding rhythmically against the earth. His pointed ears were alert, straining to catch the barest of sounds incongruous with the everyday noises of the forest, nostrils flared as each breaths scents were analyzed. He was probably overdoing it, just a bit, but Jacob found that the more he concentrated on sweeping the territory borders for traces of unwelcome visitors, the less he focused on his anger.
Embry, One of his best friends, probably would have taken that moment to laugh at him, pointing out that anger most definitely wasn't a strong enough word for what Jacob was feeling. But Embry, or any other members of the pack that would have agreed with him, wasn't running wolf at that moment. For as a wolf, no thought or feeling went unshared among mines of the members of the Quileute tribe who had been cursed, or blessed depending on who you asked, to change into monstrous horse sized werewolves.
Huffing with annoyance as his thoughts were once again focused on his irritation, Jacob Black dug his toenails into The ground, skidding into an abrupt stop that sent bits of the undergrowth flying away from him. Muzzle wrinkling with a low growl, the huge russet wolf laid his ears flat against his skull, glaring into the trees. Why, Of all the things his father had told him, did his superstitious fears have to be the absolute truth? Why did the Cullen Family turn out to actually be vampires? Why did his family have to live up to the legends and transform into werewolves? After a long moment in which he snarled at the empty air, Jake up slowly relaxed his muzzle, giving his tail a few twitches before releasing a heavy sigh. He couldn't help what his family was, the heritage that they had been given. He knew that the rightful owners of the blame lay with the blood suckers...
Still feeling irritated, Jacob propelled himself into a run once more, heading in the direction of the border that they shared with the vampires, hoping to discover even a single bloodsucker that was near the line. Maybe he could tempt them into Crossing, give him a vent for his frustration... Digging his nails into the loam, The red brown wolf shot through the trees with purpose, gaining speed the further he went.
Embry, One of his best friends, probably would have taken that moment to laugh at him, pointing out that anger most definitely wasn't a strong enough word for what Jacob was feeling. But Embry, or any other members of the pack that would have agreed with him, wasn't running wolf at that moment. For as a wolf, no thought or feeling went unshared among mines of the members of the Quileute tribe who had been cursed, or blessed depending on who you asked, to change into monstrous horse sized werewolves.
Huffing with annoyance as his thoughts were once again focused on his irritation, Jacob Black dug his toenails into The ground, skidding into an abrupt stop that sent bits of the undergrowth flying away from him. Muzzle wrinkling with a low growl, the huge russet wolf laid his ears flat against his skull, glaring into the trees. Why, Of all the things his father had told him, did his superstitious fears have to be the absolute truth? Why did the Cullen Family turn out to actually be vampires? Why did his family have to live up to the legends and transform into werewolves? After a long moment in which he snarled at the empty air, Jake up slowly relaxed his muzzle, giving his tail a few twitches before releasing a heavy sigh. He couldn't help what his family was, the heritage that they had been given. He knew that the rightful owners of the blame lay with the blood suckers...
Still feeling irritated, Jacob propelled himself into a run once more, heading in the direction of the border that they shared with the vampires, hoping to discover even a single bloodsucker that was near the line. Maybe he could tempt them into Crossing, give him a vent for his frustration... Digging his nails into the loam, The red brown wolf shot through the trees with purpose, gaining speed the further he went.