⨈ nyamix ↟ one year six months ↟ female ↟ beauceron ↟ tagged: alone - open ⨈
nyamix's amber eyes slowly glazed over her surroundings as she sat idly near the pack, somewhat off in the distance. She could see Tohbi off to her right quite a bit away, Fenway to her left at a much closer distance. The female couldn't really be seen as she positioned between some bushes, using the thick foliage for some shelter. Luckily, she was quite fit for the colder weather; her coat was quite dense, the undercoat being soft and thick, her outercoat a much more rougher texture and waterproof. She had spent much time both inside and outside in her previous home, but a well lit lawn was quite a drastic change to the rugid wilderness.
Her maw slowly opened, her tongue rolling out as she let out a soft yawn, her tongue slowly licking over her snout and lips as she slowly stood, pushing through the bushes into the open. She stretched her cold limbs out, first going into a sort of play bow to stretch out her forearms and shoulders, then into a plank, stretching out her back legs and tail. Her long tail slowly wagged a bit as she quite enjoyed the feeling of her muscles beginning to warm up, reminding her of the many nights she spent training with her owners. She was a working dog, and without a job or plan, she felt quite lost. Sure, surviving could be seen as a job but the fae relished the strict regime she used to follow growing up; wake up, eat, train, sleep and repeat. Perhaps getting into more of a routine would bring her some joy and feed the hunger to do something.
Her tail relaxed between her hind legs, the end curling upwards as it neared the tip of her tail. She looked the 'nicest' out of the pack, seeing as she had been abandoned no more than twenty-four hours ago. She was well fed, her coat shiny and thick, her nails neatly trimmed. It looked like she had just came from the groomers, besides her paws. They were covered in mud from her frantic running after her family's car; it still confused her as to what caused them to leave her in this retched place with these flea-bitten mongrels. She was not bred for this.
Nyamix shook out her entire body, beginning to walk around quite aimlessly, sniffing and marking bushes and trees. She wasn't hungry nor thirsty, still in some shock of the situation she now found herself in. Part of her felt like it was her duty to guard the pack and make sure everyone was safe. That, she knew, she would be good at. Her bloodline was well-established in France where she was from, and dogs that came from her roots were deathly loyal and hard workers to those that earned such. She would not let this pack down, if they gave her a chance and a job.