Solomon chuckled as the cub seemed to stumble slightly.

"Yeesh, someone's a lightweight. That was barely a taste. At least you look a little better. You had me scared for a while..."

<Why don't I know your name?>

The thought floated up seemingly from nowhere, and at the same time, it was obviously from his now tipsy cub. This time, however, it was understandable. It was thought the rodent was speaking english instead of jibberish. Since it had eaten most of his books and the one he had been reading was about dull things that happened to stupid kings or ugly hags in years long since past, he decided to give talking with...it...the thing...the hairball...whatever derisive term he was going to give it, a shot.

<The name is...Keyes...?>

It was all wrong. Talking to wolves was by no means intuitive for him. Keyes came out like a brainpicture of a set of keys, complete with a ring. It was annoying, but he couldn't find another way to say it. The jist of the message got through, but that was it. He tried again. But the word Solomon was more like wisdom and courage, two emotions about the name Solomon rather then the word. And he certainly was neither wise nor courageous. Finally, in desparation, he tried to dredge up something that described who he was.

<My name is...Swift Paws>

Somehow, that made sense. Annoying, poorly understood sense, but it was better then anything else he had tried to send. Apparantly, wolves didn't talk in the traditional sense. They 'sent' base emotions, pictures and meanings, rather then words. A bloody annoying system, but at least he could tell the stupid thing to stop eating all his books. They were getting expensive, and he could only dice so much off before he was caught cheating.

<Rat, what's your name?>

The word Rat came out as a picture of the cub, but with ratlike features. An image of the way he saw it. The response from the halfdrunk cub would be hilarious.

OOC: Sorry, I've been having browser troubles. This has been WRITTEN since monday, but I could only post it now. Sorry. Have fun!

"Hey, thanks and all, but I'm really, really not hungry right now..."

Solomon had only to look at the meat before him to lose his appetite. It wasn't just that the rabbit had been devoured, that was fine. He just didn't like his meat without, ya'know, cooking. And perhaps a light glaze or sauce? At any rate, he buried the remains and recovered the arrow. It was time to head in. "Come on, pup," Solomon quipped as he collected the cubbearing sack and tossed it gently over one shoulder, "It's time to sack it in for the night."

After a good night's sleep, eggs and toast, along with a little snack for the furry pest, Solomon was ready for another long, boring day. And after that boring day, he livened things up with a trip to the hoochhouse. "Hey, I'm home, nobody. Oh, and miniture furry killing thing. Can't forget you. If I do, I'm libel to have to clean something up." Solomon said, "And let's see how long it will take before I can get rid of you..."

Unfortunatly, the tiny leg was very swollen, and the little furbag was squealing at every slight movement. There wasn't much he could do but wait, and it looked like it was going to go on for a week, at least. He didn't know much about wolves, but he had broken his limbs enough to know about it. Well, perhaps HE had not broken them...that squealling was enough to make him want to get drunk, and rather quickly. Another solution dawned on him, however, and he reached to the small dresser that adorned his tiny room.

"Here, a nip of this will shut your foodhole." he sighed, as he poured a small amount of liquid from a clear glass bottle into a dish, "That's good whiskey, so it had better..." His unfortunate roommate took a few whiffs and immediatedly retreated from the proffered dish, but he gave her a look that was fairly univeral in it's message. The cub downed the saucer, and actually seemed to enjoy it, even looking at him with big, pleading eyes, as if expecting more. "Not gonna happen," he replied, with another withering gaze, "You're tipsy enough already, I don't need a sloshed hairball getting me in more trouble." At least she wasn't screeching anymore...

Solomon was nudged from his reading, annoyingly enough, by his small wolf-friend. He took the time to note his page, then turned to to the wolf, half-intending to smack the whiny little midget into next week. He stopped however, when a series of less annoying, tastier animals flashed into his head. Whatever she was doing, it was becoming a little less annoying, and by the grumble in her belly, she apparantly wanted dinner.

"Well, at least you're making a little more sense. I suppose I could...no, that's right, I broke that leg. Well, I can't let you starve, try as I might..."

Solomon reached for the longbow that was so fashionable in the tiny wolfkin village and a quiver of arrows and managed to fit his companion into a small leather satchel he used on occasion.

Darkness made hunting a little harder, but a clear night, the nearly full moon and his golden eyes made it easier then it looked. Solomon crept through the woods, arrow notched and ready for small game. It certainly wasn't long before he stumbled upon a rabbit, one of the many that seemed to flood the forest. He pulled the satchel off his shoulder and set it down gently. Unfortunatly, the cub's foot was ackwardly placed, and her loud yip spooked the rabbit into flight. Solomon's arrow went wide, shattering the tip on a stone. Muttering a curse, he recovered his burden and nocked another arrow.

It wasn't long at all before the cub was tearing apart a fat rabbit under a large tree not far from town. Solomon was, quite honestly, exhausted, and was waiting impatiently for his charge to finish so he could bury the remains and get some sleep...

The little wolf's response was less then encouraging. There was some nonsense blared in his head, obviously from his new roommate, and then she...it...coughed. Solomon let out a sigh, and silently cursed the blackmailing witch who had forced the little rat upon him.

"So, now I need to figure out what you need to eat, and make sure you don't..." Solomon was forced to pause his woeful dissertation as his less-than-welcome guest sent another blast of mental senselessness. He continued, "...and a muzzle wouldn't be a bad idea either. Aurin's got his wolf pretty well trained, maybe I can teach you something useful as..." He was cut off once again by the same inane images, and, well, enough was enough.

<Shut UP!>

The message was crude, and not exactly words, but Sol was at least confidant that the general message had gotten across. His new 'friend' let out a yip and buried her head in his shirts.

"Well...now that we've gotten that out of the way, I'm looking forward to finishing a book you didn't eat..."

OOC:Alright, hopefully, that will give you someplace to go...

Only a few minutes had past since his last unexpected visitor, and already Solomon had a new one. He ignored the pounding at his door for a second, trying to remember what page he was on, but it became more and more insistant. He tossed the book aside and opened it, and much to his dismay, there stood the Wolfkin woman he had seen earlier, and the fanged rat that had eaten his book.

"Dis-gusting!"

Solomon raised an eyebrow at the remark. His room had a few stacks of books scattered around, and some clothes on the floor, but he hardly had enough to make a truly messy room.

"Great," he deadpanned in response, "and if you're done belittling my stuff, here's the door."

He tried to close it in her face, but she was surprisingly quick to get her foot in the way.

"No," she exclaimed, shoving the door back open. "You'll hear me out. You hurt this little cub, and I expect you to make it right!"

"Riiiiight," he replied through bitterly amused laughter, "that's great! Seriously though, " Solomon's voice lost it's jovial tone, and his face darkened as he finished, "get out!"

The woman frowned, and turned as if she were leaving. "Alright, " she began, "but I'm sure Aurin would love to hear this!" Solomon's jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. If looks could kill, his gaze would have left a few miles of forest in smoking ruin. "Yes," the woman continued, "I'm sure Aurin would be more than happy to..."

Solomon cut her off a sharp, "Enough!" He took a deep breath, before nodding in agreement. "Fine, I'll look after the little rat. Just make sure it doesn't eat any more books, or there might be another accident involving the window."

"What is your problem anyway," the lady asked, looking rather confused as she handed the tiny cub over. "You're Wolfkin, tell her not to!"

"Better idea," Solomon replied, "you get out." The lady stood her ground for a moment, but gave up when she realized Sol had comprimised all he was going to. As the door closed, he kicked some shirts into a crude bed and placed the...thing, into his precious bundle of clothing. Kneeling down over the tiny monster, he ruffled its head up a bit before giving it a stern look.

"Eat any of these shirts, and I'll break the other leg. You've been told."

"Vines? You trying to...trying...what are these bloody things!"

Solomon's voice had changed from mirth to anger by the time he realized that he couldn't free either of his feet. Despite his best efforts, the vines held fast. His face contorted with rage, and then the vines in front of him exploded in a pillar of fire. In a flash, most of the foliage was consumed, leaving a black scar where Aurin's dastardly plant trap had enclosed the unfortunate pupil. There was a slight pause, and then Sol burst from plume of smoke his little flash-fire had produced. There was a glance in Aurin's direction, and then he bounded off into the trees.

It was quiet for a moment, as Solomon tried to sneak up on his tormentor, but Aurin wasn't a tracker for nothing. Solomon had no sooner emerged from the woods before he saw his mentor, arms crossed, and looking disappointed.

"All that, and for what, Solomon?" Aurin voiced, discontentedly.

Vines began to grow again, entrapping Solomon a second time. He wasn't there long enough, instead vanishing altogether. Aurin wasn't confused long, however, and almost immediately turned around to confront his student, who certainly hadn't jumped far. What took him back, however, was the costume Solomon was wearing. He now faced a Saldean, fully dressed in feathers, from head to toe. The shirt, cloak, and even a mask, all made from feathers, like something right out of Ebou Dar. But nobody wore anything made purely from pitch-black ravens' feathers.

"What, you didn't think I'd figured it out?" Solomon wheezed between dark laughter. "When have I ever needed more than one..." he continued, before being cut off by a sharp twang. Aurin hadn't been idle, and had carefully formed a large, springy tree branch. Solomon flew several feet before he managed to slow down, and he still tumbled head over heels.

"Aurin," he griped, "you are just no fun. Freaking you out..."

"You didn't try hard enough. This is a test, remember,†came the dry, matter-of-fact reply. Aurin was approaching rapidly, and the ground was rumbling. Neither of these were particularly good signs. Solomon managed to stand before he was back on his rear, and the ground seemed to drop away. Then, it shot right back up, as pillars of earth undulated in the tiny earthquake. Beneath, a gaping maw awaited, and Sol's little slice of earth began to tip over. As the pit grew closer, he gathered his wits and jumped, or rather flew. He landed at the edge, at with another withering glare at Aurin, donned a Warder's cloak and vanished into the trees. Aurin followed, but to no avail this time. There was no trail to follow, and the trees and shrubs made for a practically infinite number of hiding places.

"How about, instead of 'pitch Solomon like a tent', we play 'hide and go seek'?" Sol rasped from the trees, his voice seemingly echoing from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. "What are you going to do now? Burn the forest down?" Grating laughter followed. Oh, how he hoped Aurin wouldn't actually do that...

Solomon spat out the sliver of wood he had been chewing on, and looked admiringly over the stedding. It was lovely in the spring, warm and with an abundance of sweet scents. The winter had seemed that much more stale, especially once he had gained the heightened senses every one of the 'kin enjoyed. Unfortunately, the smell of wolves was equally in abundance, given that the community lived in harmony with their furry brethren. All except him, it seemed. They mostly ignored the leathershop, due to the smell, so he was safe for at least of portion of his days.

Dusting off his shoes, he came to his current, although temporary, housing, the Infirmiry. After a short journey down the hall, he threw open the door and...found a small wolf cub staring back at him. More disconcerting, however, was the torn shirt it was laying on top of, and the remaining shreds of paper behind that. There was a short pause as opposing parties fully considered the situation, then Solomon's face changed from surprise to a dark, angry look, his eyes squinting as he took a step towards the tiny intruder. The timid, squirrel-like cub before him yelped and tried to escape, but he brought a heavy boot down in front of it, blocking that escape route, and his hand shot down and snagged the cub by the scuff of its neck.

"Well, well, well, someone was hungry. But I know just how to handle this..."

The cub just stared back, trying to look pathetic and doughy-eyed, but Sol's bitter grimace showed no signs of softening. He did, however, walk over to the open window, and toss the furry runt out several feet, onto the street.

"Next time to get peckish, try to remember this!"

Solomon's shout caught the attention of a woman nearby, but he slammed the window shut before her scathing remarks could reach him. Returning to his ruined belongings, he examined them and found them unsalvagable. He tossed them into the corner, to be disposed of later, and bemoaned the grim task of trying to explain the destruction of the book. It wasn't even his...

OOC: Alright, have fun with that...