literature

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Wings glanced dubiously at the red-brown whippet bitch before him. Normally he was all too happy to meet other whippets, but there was something about this particular one that made him think twice before his usual pleasant greeting. Something about her stance, that fiercely proud posture and the way she held her head. The look in her dark eyes was the challenging gaze of a hunter. This was a bitch who clearly felt she was in charge of things – and wouldn’t hesitate to let anyone else know about it. As she was somewhat smaller and more slightly-built than he was, this disconcerted him somewhat.

Nonetheless, he stepped forward, wagging his tail low to convince her he wasn’t a threat, and extended his nose to sniff hers. She responded by stepping back a pace, ears folded.

“Whoa there, buster. Getting a bit forward, are we?”

“Forward?!” Wings’s ears folded back, incredulously. “Well, I ask you! I hadn’t even said a thing to you yet, not properly.”

The bitch snorted. “I don’t know who you are, even if you are a whippet. Everyone knows the bitch should be making the introductions. Now hold still.”

She stepped around him and put her nose to his lowered tail, and Wings, somewhat taken aback, did as he was told. It was only after her comment of “Hmm, you smell alright, then,” that he snapped into action.

“Just a minute there,” he protested, swinging his body around so that he was facing her once more. “Who do you think you are? I don’t even know who you are yet, how is that fair?”

“Bitch. Makes. The. Introductions,” repeated the red whippet, slower this time, almost as if he were a somewhat dimwitted puppy. “At least, that’s how we were taught, in my pack. Sign of good breeding, you know. As to who I am, I’m Willoughby’s Bright Copper Penny. Of the Willoughby Whippets. You should know of my pack, I hope.”

Wings made a snort of his own. He had heard of the Willoughbys, even seen them in the showring. They were a renowned coursing line, and bred for their solid colouring. “Well, Miss Willoughby, I’m Fleetheart’s Wings of Chance, of the Fleetheart Whippets. One would think you would know of us, likewise.”

Penny wruffed softly through her teeth and lips. The Fleethearts were well-known indeed – in fact, she had heard that a Fleetheart whippet had contributed to her own lineage, long ago. But she wasn’t about to let this piebald stranger know about that. She wasn’t about to concede her position on top.

Wings was unusually agitated. Why should this little red female be bossing him around? He who was both bigger and older – he could smell – than her? He was tempted to snarl, but he knew that she would only pick a fight with him. All of a sudden he realised how puppyish he was being, getting all hackle-prickly over something as trivial as a dominance issue. He would let her have her way for now, this silly little pup who seemed to think she was a wolfhound. It wasn’t worth getting his fur in a raise, or himself into a dogfight. Relaxing himself with a quick shake, he wagged his tail, folding his ears.

“Perhaps we’ve both been rather quick to spring, Miss Willoughby. I apologise.”

Mollified, Penny let go the tension in her own body. This whippet knew how to talk to a bitch, after all. Bringing her ears back forward, she smiled at him.

“You can call me Penny, Fleetheart Whippet.”

“My name is Wings.”

“...Wings.”

Beth sighed in some relief as she looked at Mrs. Willoughby, who was chuckling over the horn-rims of her glasses as the two dogs finally made a tentative acquaintance, sniffing noses and wagging tails.

“I knew Wings would handle it well – though he had me afraid for a second there.”

“Your boy is beautiful, Beth. And he has a beautiful nature, too. A true Fleetheart hound.”
The older woman adjusted her hands around the mug of tea in her hands.  “Remember that I want the pick of the litter when they finally come.”

Beth smiled. “Yes, that will be quite the litter, won’t it?”

“It’s quite the match.”

Wings’s tail wagged higher and faster as he grew more accustomed to her scent. She was alright, he decided. Rather fiery, but he supposed he could get used to it.

“I hope we can be friends, Penny.”

He seemed alright after all, this Wings dog. Penny gave him several grudging wags before she realised she really meant them, and smiled at him again. Rather soft, she thought, but she supposed she could get used to it.

“As long as you know who’s boss.”
yay for you if you know what I'm referencing in the title. <3

Whippet characters Penny and Wings, that I RP on Mushroom Grove. (Penny has only recently been introduced, though, and due to circumstances I won't be able to upload her properly and thus play her until May. blah. oh well.) Since both characters are mine and I obviously can't RP with myself on the forum, I've decided to get a better handle on their relationship for myself by just writing in little spurts. This is the first of what I hope will be several vignettes :3
© 2007 - 2024 swift-whippet
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SneauxMcFly's avatar
The drawing fits the story sooo well. I really like how different their personalities are and yet they still seem to eventually 'get along.' Perhaps the best part is how it appears as if only the two dogs are involved and then suddenly the breeders begin talking. I love that. A total contrast in the lives of the humans and the whippets. Splendid work!