Upon returning home at the end of the night, your character finds… a box before his or her door. It’s rather common-looking, as boxes go — a simple wooden crate, about two feet on a side. There are no markings telling its point of origin, but your name’s stamped in big, block letters right on top. It’s closed with a simple brass hasp. No one appears to be around that witnessed its delivery.
As you peer at it, something shifts inside: just the faintest sound of movement, then all is still again.
What do you do?
By the time Angoleth found herself walking south down the familiar path past the logging grounds, her eyes had adjusted to the faint starlight. The day had been long, and she was glad to be home, but Grizzly Hills was abuzz with insects taking advantage of the short summer season, fireflies and crickets and katydids and
She took her time on the path next to the river, idly noting the summer flowers and checking for berries in the brush. As she approached the little house, however, a large crate sitting next to the door caught her attention. Her name was written on it clearly, but there were no other identifying marks, no return address, not even a delivery stamp.
The box rustled.
Angoleth sat down on her front stoop, eyeing the box suspiciously. The box rustled again and then was quiet. She checked it over for a third, then a fourth time – still no identification. She nudged it with her foot.
With a sigh, she stood up and carried it inside, setting it on the floor and whistling for Shan’re. He trotted over, interested, and sniffed the box thoroughly. After a moment, he started to paw at the box, whining.
The box whined back.
Suddenly everything in the room was interested in the crate. The great grey owl ruffled her feathers, watching the box intently. Arsaelan padded over to sniff at it, his upper lip curled back, tail twitching. Shan’re continued to worry over the crate, which rustled more impatiently now.
Angoleth, on the other hand, eyed the box as though it was going to explode.
The wolf nudged the box with his nose, shoving it along the floor impatiently. Curiosity finally won out over caution, and the hunter pushed the wolf aside, unlatching the box gingerly and opening it just a crack. Shan’re shoved his nose inside, flipping back the lid and exposing the contents of the crate.
Angoleth blinked. Inside, wrapped in a faded woolen blanket, was a wolf pup. Shan’re immediately started licking its ears.
She lifted the little furball out of the crate, but there was no note that she could find, only a little wad of cotton, soaked in some substance that made her vision dizzy. Nestling against her arm, the puppy began to cry, prompting more nosing from the bigger wolf and snapping the perplexed hunter out of her search for any sort of identifying information. She wandered into the kitchen, murmuring soft reassurances in Darnassian, an incredibly intent Shan’re close at her heels.
(PS: if you didn’t click the wolf pup link, you should.)
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