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Artwork (Traditional) / Animal related (non-anthro)
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My Friends At My Side WIP
Many seasons had passed since the patchwork pack had won the valley, and seasons were still kept by protecting it. At first, neighboring packs had scoffed at the strange little family headed by the soft-spoken Janus who wielded the sharp tongue and fangs of the headstrong female at his side. What kind of wolf pack was made primarily of dogs? But the laughter only lasted for so long. As the packs around them fell to various threats...as factions of the Berati forced them to slink through the undergrowth of the fringes of their lands, they were forced to notice with grudging respect how each member of the Wind Valley pack kept its borders with fang and claw as well as any wolf could.
As the moon above continued to empty and fill herself again with each cycle, the bonds formed by providence so many moons ago strengthened. Wielder mused over the growth of her small pack as the pups raced beside her.
Strife's footfalls were nearly identical to her own, his wolf's blood shining through each blow a paw struck in the dewy grass. He made almost no sound, the only evidence of his breathing being the puffs of air that rose as fog to join the heat escaping from the other open mouths around him. He was thoughtful, he was an ever watchful observer. And no black wolf of Berati's hatred had touched a claw on Wind Valley land without Strife's tall Alsatian ears hearing it.
Ammy was the fastest thing nature had ever contrived, or so Wielder thought. The smallest member of their pack seemed to pull the earth beneath her in effortless bounds rather than to run across its surface herself. Fiercely loyal and just as intelligent, the border collie mix never seemed to take note of an adversary's greater size or strength. Whether she did or not didn't seem to matter since none of them had ever seen the herding dog turn away from anything that threatened pack or home. Despite such serious dedication to duty, cheerfulness was always in Ammy's gait, and Wielder had come to accept (though she was Alpha-wolf) that the small dog would always run at least half a wolf's length in front of her because of the sheer joy she felt at running with a pack.
The last to join the group had oddly enough been the one Wielder had known the longest. The pit bull mix's strong heart beat in her well muscled chest and fueled each heavy step she made beside her. Malley had known the wolfess since she was but a tiny black puppling who no one gave a chance to. Too small to be a fighting dog. No pit bull mix would make a good pet. Wielder had taken her in along with a few other stray dogs. Wielder had made sure her wounds were tended and her belly was full. Wielder had played with her even though the others complained of her playing too rough. Wielder had earned her respect years ago, and Malley had returned it by following the trail of the wolf until her bleeding paws found the Valley. Though she was still small by her breed's standard, she was a powerhouse. One snap of her jaws could break the neck or back of many animals three or even four times her size, and a bump of her shoulder, even during play, could throw Wielder off balance.
And so, while so many other territories fell into disuse, were annexed by other packs, or were torn by war, the strange little pack raced about their borders daily. Barking, howling, and yipping their eerie challenge into their air. Alone, they might not have been much, but when they sang together, few voices had the strength to answer back.
Started drawing this a while back while I was at home during that whole had-to-adopt-my-husband's-little-sister thing. Finally dressed it up and uploaded it today. Just something I drew because this is what I frequently do in real life with my two dogs (Ammy and Strife) and the "village" dog, Malley. We get together and run through the woods on my father's property. Fun times! I'm never happier.
footpad gets a good deal of the credit here by writing a lovely story that sort of helped inspire this. Go to his page and read it!
As the moon above continued to empty and fill herself again with each cycle, the bonds formed by providence so many moons ago strengthened. Wielder mused over the growth of her small pack as the pups raced beside her.
Strife's footfalls were nearly identical to her own, his wolf's blood shining through each blow a paw struck in the dewy grass. He made almost no sound, the only evidence of his breathing being the puffs of air that rose as fog to join the heat escaping from the other open mouths around him. He was thoughtful, he was an ever watchful observer. And no black wolf of Berati's hatred had touched a claw on Wind Valley land without Strife's tall Alsatian ears hearing it.
Ammy was the fastest thing nature had ever contrived, or so Wielder thought. The smallest member of their pack seemed to pull the earth beneath her in effortless bounds rather than to run across its surface herself. Fiercely loyal and just as intelligent, the border collie mix never seemed to take note of an adversary's greater size or strength. Whether she did or not didn't seem to matter since none of them had ever seen the herding dog turn away from anything that threatened pack or home. Despite such serious dedication to duty, cheerfulness was always in Ammy's gait, and Wielder had come to accept (though she was Alpha-wolf) that the small dog would always run at least half a wolf's length in front of her because of the sheer joy she felt at running with a pack.
The last to join the group had oddly enough been the one Wielder had known the longest. The pit bull mix's strong heart beat in her well muscled chest and fueled each heavy step she made beside her. Malley had known the wolfess since she was but a tiny black puppling who no one gave a chance to. Too small to be a fighting dog. No pit bull mix would make a good pet. Wielder had taken her in along with a few other stray dogs. Wielder had made sure her wounds were tended and her belly was full. Wielder had played with her even though the others complained of her playing too rough. Wielder had earned her respect years ago, and Malley had returned it by following the trail of the wolf until her bleeding paws found the Valley. Though she was still small by her breed's standard, she was a powerhouse. One snap of her jaws could break the neck or back of many animals three or even four times her size, and a bump of her shoulder, even during play, could throw Wielder off balance.
And so, while so many other territories fell into disuse, were annexed by other packs, or were torn by war, the strange little pack raced about their borders daily. Barking, howling, and yipping their eerie challenge into their air. Alone, they might not have been much, but when they sang together, few voices had the strength to answer back.
Started drawing this a while back while I was at home during that whole had-to-adopt-my-husband's-little-sister thing. Finally dressed it up and uploaded it today. Just something I drew because this is what I frequently do in real life with my two dogs (Ammy and Strife) and the "village" dog, Malley. We get together and run through the woods on my father's property. Fun times! I'm never happier.
footpad gets a good deal of the credit here by writing a lovely story that sort of helped inspire this. Go to his page and read it!
Category Artwork (Traditional) / Animal related (non-anthro)
Species Canine (Other)
Size 1280 x 931px
File Size 710.1 kB
So cute! I'm glad I'm not the only one who gets that wolf feeling while running or walking through woods/brush. Very nice sketch. Do you think you're ever going to get around to adding on some colors? I think it's great as is but your coloring adds so much dynamic to your pieces!
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