Asther was a white timber wolf. Not very much older than all the other wolves in his pack. He felt way toosimilar, like he was a part of a matched set. Nothing set him apart from the other wolves. Not his looks, or his hunting skills. Not his eyes, or his voice. They were all the same.
One day, Asther traveled farther then he was allowed, toward the camp ground not far from the main den. The campsite had been used, as the embers in the fire were still flickering and giving off heat. a beign tent was set up not 10 feet from the tent.
Curious, Asther crept toward the structure, pushing his head through the flaps that stood as the door. It was empty, to his reliefe, so he proceeded into the tent. the dirt was replaced by rough nylon that slid around under his feet.
Ahead of him was somethign hanging from a thin string from the top of the tent. his head barely touched the hanging object. they were circles, he observed, attacked to a flat, leathery smelling strip. reaching up on his back legs, asther nudged the object, causing it to unexpectedly fall on his head.
He jumped back in shock, rushing out of the tent backwards. the coast was still clear, so he ran away with the object on his head. he ran home, skidding to a stop once he was in the safe view of the elder wolves. Asther noticed one, Rass, wastching him curiously. He walked over to the old she wolf.
“Rass, why are you watching me?” He asked curiously.
The old she wolf chuckled, “You have a human devise upon your head.” she inclined her head at his treasure.
“Oh, well yes. I suppose i do.” Asther nodded , careful not to tip them off. the flaps on the object rustled near his ears.
“Do you know what they are?” Rass asked. Asther shook his head, again carefully. “Those are goggles.” Rass said, “Humans strap them onto their face to protect their eyes from winds when they fly in those great metal birds.” The she-wolf looked up at the vast blue sky.
Eventually, Asther learned that he wasnt the only goggle wearing wolf. Onwe thing the goggles did for him, though, was make him his oen individual. The wolves in his pack gave him the nickname ‘Ace’.
Spelling mistakes should be expected. I havent touched this document since 2005, when i was 8. So yes i wrote this when i was 8. Im not actually very happy with this, concidering when i was younger, my work was superb. one of my stories actually got put in the newspaper when i was eleven. It was a horror story by the title of “silence is red”. I have to pull up the document, but concidering i actually have a collection of 300 + memory sticks in a bunch of Bins, it’ll be a while.
Well for something about me, this is kind a page for me and My Best friend, Dmitri. He’s too lazy to make his own.
My Name is asther. Im 14, my birthday is October 15.
Now i am not a drawer at all. I cant draw to save my life, but i do have a fursona that happens to be a wolf, and i have another one aswell. I might get my friend to draw them both for me.
I write, however. But not very much. Ill post small blurbs of stuff here and there.