Name: Quint

Gender: Male

Looks: Quint is a dark, russet colored wolf. He has stunning, golden eyes, and his right ear has a golden/blond tip. His underbelly and chest are white. His eyes seem to freeze-burn anything they look at, they seem warm, but can fry somebody.

Personality: Quint is a strange wold. He's quiet and keeps to himself. He has a very sharp senses, which others find creepy. He sometimes doesn't even open his eyes, because they tend to make other uncomfortable, and he can get around just fine by relying on his other senses. HIs howl is rarely heard, it's musical tone makes others stop and stare. Quint can be quite gentle though, despite his gaze. He is fully capable of taking care of himself, he's lived on his own all his life, and can fight and hunt just fine. He's good at scaling cliffs, and climbing up rocks.

Other: N/A

(( Perfect. Do you want to start? ))

((Sure))

Quint slid quietly through the pine branches, pacing himself. The Gathering of Wolves would take place tomorrow at midnight, when all pack leaders came to share news of their pack's, and he was going to be there. He wasn't allowed to be there, but he would make sure he was. The leaders would hold a conference, in this way they would learn of anything important that might endanger their packs. Quint had once gotten into trouble with one of the leaders as a young wolf, he had found a dead pup from the leader's pack, and the leader had blamed him.

Quint's presence in the woods was not unknown, wolves scented him from time to time, but hey never saw him. He kept up with the pack by hiding in their territories and listening to passing patrols. Most of the packs had strict orders to kill him on the spot if he was found in their territory, but to Quint, these orders were of no concern. The chances of him being caught were less than zero.

The moon was high in the sky, bathing the forest floor in its light. Where the canopy was too think for light to fall completely, little shafts of moonlight streamed through, illuminating small details that most wolves would have overlooked. But Quint was attentive, and always watching for signs of danger or food. His life didn't revolve around these two factors of survival, he got up to plenty of mischief, but they still played a very important role in his life.

As he loped over the forest floor, Quint began to wonder, as he sometimes did, what would become of his life in the end. He hoped to someday settle down with a mate, but he still had plenty of time for that, he wasn't old. But how would he ver find one among the packs here? Pondering these thoughts, Quint continued his tireless treck across the forests of the Durin Mountain range.

((I made some stuff up for the setting and all, if that's okay with you?))

Quint cursed as the other olf landed on top of him. Okay, correction, pack wolves couldn't catch him. But a loner, loners were much harder to avoid. A snarl rose in his throat, and with a heave, he flung the she-wolf off. He didn't bother to survey his enemy, he leaped again, and swiped at the intruder. His paw brushed her fur, but he landed squarely on her, pinning her down.

Quint's golden eyes blazed full-furry at the chocolate wolf, the moonlight briefly dancing across her face. To him she was just another wolf, to any other male his age, she would have looked quite beautiful. But for all Quint knew, she might have killed him if he hadn't responded quick enough. There were a lot of wolves out there that would kill given the chance. Many had the idea that females were not as vicious as males, but Quint knew better. In fact, the statement or rumor, whichever had come first, he could dissprove. He had been clawed within an inch of his life as a pup by a lone she-wolf.

The forest seemed to be covered in glowing frost, but it was the middle of spring. Yet Quint never took his raging eyes off the she-wolf. "Look, I'm not going to ask questions, but if you know what's good for you, you'll let me pass," he sneered to her, a growl hidden in his voice. He wondered briefly if she'd notice it.

The she-wolf was backing away. This pleased Quint. The fear in her eyes when she'd looked at him, he'd almost laughed. She was smaller, not as heavy as he would have expected. This female was a pack wolf, she'd happened across him by chance. Pack wolves were always smaller, their days of providing for others had to show in some way. The wolf had surprised Quint when she'd thrown him off, but then again, she seemed pretty desperate.

Quint shook himself, and a mischievious thought crossed his mine. Why not give the she-wolf another good scare. She deserved it in the least for attacking him. Feinting to one side, assuming she'd lash out, Quint trotted over the dead leaves toward the other wolf. As soon as he got within striking distance of her paws, he slipped to the other side, shifting his weight. As Quint passed by the she-wolf, not a hair moved on her pelt, he whispered in her ear "I'm not a pack wolf, but hanging around here will get you caught."

After Quint had finished his sentence, he leapt forward, and broke into a graceful lope. He had somewhere to be. The problems of a silly pack wolf were not of his concern.

It wasn't until after he'd put several miles between himself and the meadow, when Quint slowed to a trot. He was standing on the bank of a small stream, the water throwing the moonlight back into the sky as it bounced off the surface. Quint crouched and lapped at the water. It left his mouth cold and moist, tasting of fresh-melted snow.

Quint stood and leapt lightly across the river, but didn't start running again. A faint breeze lifted the fur on his back, almost as if it was trying to warn him of danger. He allowed the image of the she-wolf to slide back into his mind, starting with that frosty glare. Her gaze hadn't really unsettled him that much, but he supposed it made her a little odd-ball among her pack.

There was some random thought that began naggine at Quint as he thought the word 'pack'. That was strange. The thought seemed to come from deep within his concience, and it worried Quint greatly fro some unknown reason. It felt like an old friend had just died. But I've never had a friend, a little voice whimpered in Quint's head. Suddenly, Quint wished the she-wolf was still there. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be close to someone, to comfort them, or to have them comfort him. Was this what being in a pack felt like?

((Sorry for the small font, it won't work for me D:<))

Quint began to fight with himself. He tried moving forwards, then backtracked, in a feeble attempt to return to the meadow. This pattern of forward, backward, eventually evened out into his pacing along the bank of the stream. Quint was frustrated, unsure of himself for the first time. Why? Why did all these new sensations have to be coming to him now? He had somewhere he needed to be! Snarling angrily to himself, he kicked a stone, but recoiled as his pad began to sting from the impact.

Growling and snarling, the russett colored wolf shook himself, fur fluffed up against the now cruel breeze. Quint finally gave up trying to win himself over like this, and jumped headfirst into the stream. The icy water calmed him somehow. Steadily, Quint hauled himself out on the opposite bank, shaking his soaked pelt. He took a few moments' time to compose himself. Kneading the moss with his muzzle, Quint settled down into the shallow impression he'd made, and closed his eyes.

Quint allowed his thoughts to wander, and quite suddenly, they made a bee-line for the shadow that had fastened itself at the back of his weary mind. Scents, sounds, emotions surged over him. He was drowning in what seemed to be his own memories. He smelled a warmth, one that reminded him of his mother. But there were other scents too, ones that weren't supposed to be there.

((You're doing fine.))

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Quint squirmed nervously. "Hush, little one, you're safe here," came the soft voice of the mother Quint hadn't been able to remember until now. Taking comfort from her soft words, Quint settled himself against his mother's warm fur, pressed against another warm body. The other pup was his sister, though Quint was unsure how he knew.

The night was chilly, the breeze seemed to come from all around. Quint didn't know where he and is family were, only that they were safe. For now.

Almost as sudden as a violent breeze, barks and snarls erupted around them. Quint's mother flinched, and he felt, rather than heard, a growl coming from deep inside her. Determined to know, to understand, Quint opened his eyes for the first time, as his mother's warmth left his side. Quint's mother was standing, she was a beautiful silver wolf with amber eyes, his sister was still beside him. She was a pale, redish color, with a silver diamond on her forehead. Her eyes were half open, they were the same gold color as Quint's.

A fourth wolf stood in the entrance to what appeared to be a cave, which Quint's family was nestled in. This was a male, a large, fox-colored wolf., he too, had golden eyes. On his forhead, he had a pale blond streak of fur, similar to Quint's sister's diamond. Quint gave a little whimper of fright, he could smell blood in the distance. The fox-wolf looked at him, his gaze full of love and pain. "They're beautiful," he whispered to Quint's mother, not taking his eyes off the pups. "Take them Qisa, they'll find me here, and these two will never be safe," Quint's mother urged. "They're your pups, you have a duty to protect them."

The male stared at Quint's mother, his ex
pression full of fear and determination. He nodded, and dropped his gaze, padding into the cave towards Quint. "The male is Quint, after you. I want you to name the female." Those were the last words of the silver she-wolf as she brushed past Quint's father, out into the storm.

Quint began to cry.

With a jolt, Quint awoke. He realized he had tear tracks staining his face. The moss around him was shredded, and he figured he'd been clawing at it in his sleep. He felt numb with shock. Those were memories, he was sure, but why hadn't he realized they were even there, before now? Confusion had settled in every corner of Quint's exhausted mind, all he could do was lay his head on his paws. He had always thought that he'd been born a loner, but the memories told a completely different story. He was sure that had been his pack fighting outside the den.

What was more, Quint realized, was that he had a sister. Without him realizing it, Quint's swirling thoughts were beginning to form a plan. He wouldn't go to the Wolf Council, he'd have to return to the pack grounds. It would be dangerous, but he had to find out more about his past. Most importantly, find out if his sister was still alive.

Grunting, Quint stood up, shaking from head to paw. He set his eyes back across the river, southwest, flicking his gaze across the Durin Mountains that rose up against the sky in the distance. On the horizon, Quint could just make out a faint glow that signaled the arival of the sun's light. He needed to get moving.

Oh, how pleasant, Quint thought, annoyed. He had somehow managed to get himself stuck on a ridge, half way up a rocky slope. A combination of mud, and blood was smeared on the rocks below him. He had grazed his shoulder on a sharp stone jutting out from the ledge on the way up, and it was bleeding ever so slightly.

Oh well, stupid, stupid me. Now I'm going to have to jump, and I'll be lucky if I don't snap my neck.

Quint gathered himself, bunching his muscles... and leaped.

The impact shook him, but other than that, Quint found himself whole, and unbroken. Well, he wasn't comming this way again. Besides, it wasn't like he had any idea where he was, so why shouldn't he panic? Maybe he'd just settle down for a nice nap, and when he awoke, it would turn out this had all been a bad dream.

But it wasn't a dream. Isn't a dream, and you know it, spoke a sly little voice in Quint's head.

He shook himself, and padded forward again. He had to keep moving. For some reason, another little voice in his head was telling him to find the she-wolf from the previous night. In your dreams, Quint thought. There was no way he was going to find a wolf, who just might have killed him, with an injured shoulder.

She might know, she might help you, said the softer voice in Quint's head, confusing him even more. Quint broke into a fast lope, trying to leave his messed up thoughts behind. It worked. Sort of.

He was so intent on forgetting everything, that he didn't realize he'd stumbled across the pass that would take him into the heart of the badlands. Surprised, Quint stood there, dumbfounded. It took him several moments to realize that a familiar scent was tickling his cold nose.

The she-wolf!

She had been here recently, and the softer voice soon won Quint over. Snorting, he flicked his tail, and began to search for the start of the scent trail.