Hide or Seek ((Country))

[PARANOIAC]

"Speech"

Gold eyes did skim the surrounding area, ghosting over the burnt remains of the human apartments. He couldn't remember the last time he got to sleep in one of those; ah, it seemed so long ago, how he wished he could have returned to the safety behind the walls, warmth and food guaranteed each new day. Now was very different. Now, he had to hunt for himself, and there was no promise that he would catch anything. Warm places had been difficult to find thus far, and anywhere he might have found one night could have been claimed by another before the setting of the sun.

Paw steps were lightly placed as he stalked along, his head held low with his pointed ears perked up, ready to catch the snap of a twig or a splash from one of the many puddles. Spring had brought some relief from the chill, but also carried the frequent showers, leaving behind soggy ground or shallow pools or murky water. This was far from the life the former race dog once knew, yet there wasn't a single thing he could do to change it.

This was his life now. He'd have to make due.

The pharaoh hound turned a corner and peered up a cement staircase. Maybe, if he were lucky, one of the apartments had made it through the fire and he could use it for shelter. The sun had not yet set, though it was beginning to dip down, leaving the horizon a deep orange instead of the usual blue. If he didn't find someplace soon, all the good places were sure to be taken. He didn't exactly mind sharing, either, seeing as most of the burrows or hideouts he found were big enough for more than one... but not all dogs shared the same view, and getting too close to one of these claimed resting areas might result in getting some snarls and thread.

Quietly, hesitantly, the wiry dog climbed the stairs, and began his rounds of searching for an apartment in decent condition. A roof over his head would be enough to shield him from the sure rain that the evening would bring, especially with the mean-looking clouds beginning to collect over his angular head.  

 

[Kiba]

He laid in the corner of one of the apartments, his side against the partially burnt wood. He could hear the wind pick up and guessed that it was going to rain pretty badly tonight. He had to find a better shelter sometime. He had been here for a week, chasing away others. He wasn't sure if he wanted to stay here anymore of others kept trying to force him out. It was a pain.

His ears perked as he heard the clicks of claws on the burnt wood. He got up quickly moved toward the doorway just in time to see a skinny dog climb the stairs. "Who are ya? Are ya plannin' on tryin' ta chase me out? Try all ya want, but I promise it wont be easy," he growled in his thick country accent, taking a dominant stance so that the other male didn't think of trying anything.

His fur prickled to make him look a bit bigger. His tail stood out straight, his teeth bared. Saliva dripped from them, making him look scarier. Or try to.

[PARANOIAC]

"Speech"

Queenston slunk along the hallway, pointed ears flicking as he heard something much bigger than any cat or twig move. He froze, caught mid-step with one paw folded up, ready to be set down at any second. Another dog had appeared through the doorway of one of the apartments, taking an immediate defensive stance to protect his shelter. This place must already be taken... Ugh, he should've showed up sooner, then.

Unsure of what kind of chance he stood against a much heavier-looking dog than he, and assuming that a race dog would make a lousy fighting dog, the pharaoh hound lowered his head and took a few steps back. His large ears fell back, his tail lowered between his legs and his shoulders hunched up as if to say "I give up", and no bit of hostility could be found in his posture nor his gaze nor his scent.

"Listen, I don't want any trouble..." Queenston tried to explain, only looking away from the stranger for a few seconds, glancing behind himself to make sure that he had a clear shot to the staircase. Should anything happen, the stray would put his racing experience to good use and bolt away. He was highly tempted to just whip around and flee, but - what if you could convince this stranger that he wasn't a thread??

"I'm just... looking for a vacant place, that's all... I just wanted to walk past and check the other rooms," the wiry dog continued, offering a slight smile in an attempt to show some sincerity, "I wont cause any trouble for you, 'kay?? I'm just another dog..."

[Kiba]

Country's fur started to flatten as the dog took a less dominant stance. He lifted his head a bit and perked his ears at what he said. A snort left his nose, unsure if he should believe him. He didn't, but this dog was smaller than him. Shorter, skinnier. If he tried anything Country would have the upper advantage. He would chase him off.

"All the other rooms are taken or have no roof.... Come on. You can have part of mine. The storm looks like it's going to be bad. But I'm only doing this because I have the room and you haven't tried anything," he growled, ears perking as rain already started pounding down from the sky. He turned and went back into his room.

He moved back to his corner. "Stay on that side of the room. Where I can see you," he snapped at the brown dog.

[PARANOIAC]

"Speech"

Queenston couldn't help but let out a quick sigh of relief as the stranger seemed to lessen in hostility. The more he got a good look at the other, the more it became apparent that this stray was a lot bigger and heavier than the race dog, and that he could've easily chased him away. The wiry hound tried to keep a submissive stance, not wanting to upset a potential threat in any way.

As the stranger began to speak and explained that most rooms were taken or had no roof, the pharaoh hound's head sunk a bit, and his gaze was downcast. He couldn't really challenge anyone for a home, not if it meant he could get hurt or would have to throw someone else out in the process. Yet, just as it seemed as though there were no other option, the larger dog offered to let him, though a growl was attached to the offer.

Giving a nod, a few nods actually, Queenston followed hesitantly. He wanted to make sure that nothing was misunderstood, that no movement or gesture was mistake for hostility or malice. When he was ordered to stay on one side, he gave another quick nod, and trotted over to the opposite side. He paced a few circles before curling up to lie down, making sure to face the strange and keep his head raised.

"...Thanks, sir," the jackal-like dog muttered, voice barely audible. He tried to offer a friendlier smile, hoping to lighten the mood a bit, "...Um... I'm Queenston, by the way. You got a name, too, stranger??"

[Kiba]

He looked over at the skinny brown down, eyes narrowed as he spoke. Country wasn't one for small talk, he never was. He wasn't sure how to make small talk, truthfully. Lately, though, he had been helping out a lot of dogs. Why? He wasn't so sure himself. But it just wasn't him. Even so, he should probably answer.

"Country is my name. Ya' sure are funny lookin'. More like a skinny coyote than a dawg," he said, looking at the dog with his light eyes. He laid his head on his paws as the rain came crashing down. A loud boom occurred outside and his lip curled in annoyance st the thunder. It was going to be a long night. Especially if this hound wasn't going to leave him alone.

He shifted into a more comfortable position on his side instead of on his stomach.

[PARANOIAC]

"Speech"

"Country?? That's a pleasant name," the pharaoh hound gave a smile as he spoke, trying to be polite. This dog must've been important with a name like that; Queenston was named after a city, and a Country was much bigger and more important than even a city, so logically it seemed as though this larger dog were of great importance. It all made sense in the wiry dog's head.

Queenston cocked his head when Country pointed out that he looked like a coyote, and the tan hound looked down and blinked a few times. He was very used to seeing more skinny dogs since he grew up around pharaoh hounds and the racing dogs at the tracks. His brother, Hamilton, was almost an exact clone of him, so he never really saw much diversity. The Salukis and the Grayhounds, they were all just as skinny as he was, "Well, I'm afraid that I've never seen a coyote before... I'm built mostly for speed, then, I guess. I won a couple good races back in my glory days, heh."

His "glory days", just what was that supposed to mean?? Ah, how he missed having a roof guaranteed to be his and his next meal always insured. He missed the never ending conversations between himself and his chatty friends, and he missed the shiny metals he occasionally for winning a special race or two. He wasn't the fastest dog out there, not by a long shot, but he had won enough to make his family proud. If only... they were still his family...

The thunder and rain created some white noise, and the race dog noticed Country shift over to get comfortable. It was going to be a long night, huh??

"...So, you got any stories??" Queenston asked, offering another smile. He was used to starting up conversations, having been a more social dog and a peace-keeper in the past. If he were to join a pack, he would've been the Omega rank, keeping others in good spirits and maintaining social order. If only he knew that Country wasn't all too keen on socializing, or so it seemed...