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Eremos, 5 Years, Leader, Tags- Beau, Lealia, Andraste
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With no hint of reluctance Beau agreed to keep watch over the camp, and Eremos felt his worries ease a small fraction. He voiced his gratitude with a hushed, “Thank you,” before a tall ear flicked towards the retriever Atlas as his golden form swept past. Indeed, Eremos appreciated the Beauceron's compliance, though he also took note of the wishing of good luck-- they would surely need all the luck in the world.
Stepping back, Eremos turned tapering muzzle towards the form of Andraste, who's tall and powerful stature lent him some small bit of reassurance in the face of such a daunting task. Though no words left his lips, a great deal of appreciation was spoken through the softening of his burning gaze, and the faint dipping of dark head. Lealia spoke up and Eremos took a single moment, no longer than the blink of an eye, to toss a glance about the camp, his family, his home. Yes, it was time to go.
With a swish of his tail and the angled nod of his head the Leader signaled the others to follow, long sinewy limbs trotting with brisk haste towards the entrance of the camp. Brindled pelt so dark a shade of ebony rippled with each stride, muscles tensing and stretching as he led the way away from their home. “We will skirt the borders first in hopes of catching a patrol who might escort us, before we trespass.” He huffed, trying to determine the safest route to go about this. Though such anger bubbled up at the thought of the wolves trespassing, he still felt an impulse to respect the borders, the invisible fence line that would keep them safe from the wild beasts. Apparently they'd been wrong. It seemed borders could be as easily disregarded as stepping over a stone, and the thought sent another chill up the shepherd's spine.
It occurred to him Andraste was somewhat in the dark on the matter, and Eremos slowed up his pace a tinge to fall in step beside the much taller Wolfhound. “Lealia and I discovered the stench of wolf on Lucifer's pelt, as well as in the wounds on his throat. He was murdered by a wolf, and we cannot simply cower about wondering who they might strike next.” His tone was low and steady, though the edge of roughness still clung to every syllable. In truth, Eremos felt that need for vengeance creeping under his skin, lifting every hair to bristle his pelt, pricking every toe to urge his paws forward.. No. Eremos went on to draw his mind away from darker matters, “So, we will seek answers. If I am wrong and this is not some poorly aimed attempt at war, then we will do what we must to ensure nothing like this happens again.” And if this were a declaration of war, Eremos knew they wouldn't stand a chance.
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Shorty, 7 Years, Scout, Tags-
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The camp seemed just a tinge larger with a few less dogs, and upon noticing the Leader had stepped out, Shorty considered claiming the best place for sunning-- the highest boulder atop the Leader's den. After a quick sneeze that nearly knocked him off his paws, the Tibetan spaniel trotted his way up the rocky hillside, splayed paws scrabbling about stone as he climbed what would have been, for any average sized dog, a fairly easy task. Though for Shorty, it was one massive feat and by the time he made it to the top, pudgy legs gave out and he spilled like a puddle of dark fur and streaks of copper, all the while panting heavily to catch his breath.