Patrolling [open]

» Central Park was abnormally calming for the female. Not only did she love it for being in the center of what used to be human territory, meaning she may not need to hunt, but she was also able to touch nature the way she hadn't done since the man who she's strived to please: the one who died in his sleep. The death of the human didn't really upset the flat coat that strolled through the park at dawn. No, instead she was upset with who she'd gone to afterward. The humans who had driven away her appetite for meat and the ones who drove her mad. Truth was, though, the dog was just born mad. The humans were the ones who'd finally connected the dots between a want-to-be and an already-am.

» The female's attention turned to the park benches; inspecting them closely to find on e she thought would be well suited to her. She circled, seven times, sniffed around it, jumped up and back down twice, then finally spun in a circle seven more times before settling down and finally deciding this bench wasn't it. She huffed, and audible puff of air slipping between the curve of her lips. She quickly found herself growing more uncomfortable with the bench, so she quickly jumped up onto her feet and dismounted the bench. She flicked her ears - once, twice, seven times - and finally gathered the courage to continue her search for the perfect bench when a shadow caught her eye as it danced across the dark lands.

» Her heart raced like an untamed steed: pumping adrenaline through her blood that it felt like her veins burst in a display of flames and panic. The dog glanced around, a nervous expression playing across her face and chilling her spine. It left chaos everywhere it touched: her lips, nose, eyes, toes, tail, spine, no where was safe from the grip of her fear of the unknown. So, she decided to do the thing she wanted to do least of all: call out to it. "H-hello?" she spoke with a hoarse throat from unstable nerves.