sam evans ( werewolf ) . (tamest) wrote in light_of_may, |
Sam hadn't really noticed how high up he had managed to climb and it was only when Jo mentioned it herself that he realised how much smaller than normal she looked. Looking around where he was perched comfortably Sam realised she was right. He was up pretty high. It didn't feel as natural to him as running through the trees or padding through snow as a wolf might but it didn't frighten or unnerve him as perhaps it should have. Had he meant to climb so high? That was anyone's guess really, Sam was a reactionary sort of person who tended to act on his wolf's instincts, he didn't put a great deal of thought into things before he did them, at least not when he was alone.
Glancing down at the book balanced on his legs when Jo mentioned it he nodded his head. He hadn't even tried to read yet but he supposed she was right, it would be a good place to read if only because it was so secluded and a reader could get lost in the story. Though he had come outside with the intention of reading now that he was out of the house he seemed to have lost the drive to do so, probably because he had been so intent on his surroundings and trying to ascertain whether or not there was anything -- or anyone -- else out there. Maybe climbing down wouldn't be such a terrible idea, unless Jo wanted to be alone to work out that schedule she had mentioned. It was at times like this that Sam was most torn, he had never been the best at making decisions if only because they had always been made for him. It was simpler that way.
It wasn't long after Jo had taken her seat and opened her notebook that some part of Sam made the decision and before he really knew what he was doing he was making his way down the tree, his motions relatively quick and confident, almost uncharacteristically so. When he was still a few feet off the ground he released his grip and pushed off from the trunk to drop down the remaining distance, landing with bent knees so that he could keep his balance and avoid hurting himself. The book was still in his hand when he made his way slowly, quietly, over to where Jo had settled herself. Part of him wanted to ask her if she had seen anything strange but the rest of him was reluctant to make her question anything about her home or its surroundings. Once again without thinking about what he was doing he turned enough so that he could look back over his shoulder and towards the trees, as if he might catch a glimpse of something there that didn't belong.