The wind swept as dusk settled over the Janus mountain range to welcome in another warm August night. Joseph sat a few feet from the edge of the cliff taking in the view. The wolf's midnight black fur was matted with sweat, his hands calloused and rough from a day of tugging rope and hooking rocks. "Worth it for this view." He thought to himself, somewhat perturbed that his companions didn't seem very interested in joining him for it. "Ah well, so long as they set up camp." He muttered hopeful. Setting up camp was always his least favorite part of any trip, tent-poles and him just didn't seem to get along.
The wolf pulled off his boots, letting his bare feet air out and touch the warm rock surface of the mountain. He felt the high evening winds run through his fur. He smiled and stood up, boots in his hand as he strode barefoot back towards his campsite just inside the clearing. Joseph's older brother had once told him "Having hope makes you a dope." He said he'd learned it from a C.O. During his stint in the army. The saying rang true here. His two traveling companions had not spent their time breaking ground with tents. The only thing they broke was the seal on the Johnny Walker bottle. The two human girls were passing the bottle between them, from tattoo covered hand to tattoo covered hand. Joseph didn't like to think he was a wolf with a type, but he'd been with too many human girls covered in ink to deny the pattern.
"Martin is a REALLY good artist. He's already won like, a whole bunch of awards. And he's kind of cute." Sara laughed, showing off her latest tattoo to Rachel as the pair passed the bottle between them. They were both short haired punks in their early twenties. The kind of girls who grew up on Black Flag and a hatred of authority, at least until they met someone like Joseph. The wolf loomed over them, crossing his arms and tapping a bare foot against the forest floor.
"The tent doesn't look set up." He grumbled. The pair flashed him bubbly mischievous grins. Once they met a wolf like Joseph, their rebellion against authority become purposefully futile. They rebelled for a single reason, to be punished by said authority. Joseph reached down and effortlessly plucked the bottle from Rachel's hand. He took a long swig, letting the liquor warm his insides. He looked at Sara. Sara with her bright green eyes, and short neon red hair. "You, tent." He said, turning his eyes to Rachel. Long black hair and blue eyes. At least he had variety there. He dropped his boots in her lap. "Clean these, I want them spotless." She looked up at him with a question. "Yes, with your tongue." He cut her off. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes, I expect your tasks done and your clothes off." He said, turning around to stride back towards the cliff's edge. He took the bottle with him.
