Who: Arcturus Prewett and OPEN What: He's hungry. When: 1:00 PM Where: Outside, near the edge of the barrier in the trees. Rating: PG-13 Status: Incomplete
It had been a very quiet few days around the Sanctuary. It was the first couple of days after the full moon and being so, the three (now four, actually) furry creatures that were staying at the asylum had been calmer than normal. Even Arcturus hadn’t been acting up as he usually did – and now that the full moon had come and gone, that part of the month was gone. He wouldn’t be nearly as rowdy or nearly as excitable as he had been before… though those traits were a part of his personality, they wouldn’t be amplified like they were during the full moon. Right? That’s what everyone would think, anyway. But Arcturus knew himself, and he knew that even around the full moon he could have more control over himself than the average werewolf – he liked to act that way, it was one of the reasons he’d become what he had. He embraced it, he didn’t hide from it. So for him? It might be a few days after the full moon but it didn’t mean the werewolf would act too much differently.
And anyone who happened to wander outside and find him as he was now would find that out. You see, Arcturus had been busy in the past couple of days. He had been spending the majority of his time outdoors… and today, he was reaping the benefits of his efforts spent outdoors. Because outside, about thirty feet away from the magical barrier (just into the beginning of the forest there), Arcturus Prewett was crouched on the ground, toes digging into the dirt, hovering over a trap. In the trap was a dead rabbit, neck snapped by the contraption that Arcturus had made, and the man-wolf had knife in one hand and was just beginning to cut open the back of the animal so that he could twist a semi-thick tree branch through it. What was he going to do with this animal? Well, once he got the stick through it, Arcturus was moving over to the pile of other branches and twigs he had collected, and he was pulling a book of matches from his pocket (stolen from the kitchen).