Information
Splash the Huesabe
Amidor
Legacy Name: Amidor
The
Spectrum KumosOwner:
BlissAge: 18 years, 1 week, 5 days
Born: April 11th, 2006
Adopted: 18 years, 1 week, 5 days ago (Legacy)
Adopted: April 11th, 2006 (Legacy)
Pet Spotlight Winner
May 26th, 2017
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 50
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 8
- Job: Unemployed
They found him in the snow, half-starved and near to death. The wolf pup was only six weeks old, much too young to be separated from his mother and littermates. He took eagerly to the offering of mare's milk thickened with bison fat, attacking the deerskin pouch with pearly baby teeth.
The wise old woman who took him into her hut would let the children come to touch his fur and have a turn with the bottle. She wanted their smells to be in his nose and their kindness to be in his heart so that this pup would never bare fangs or shy from the young ones who would someday serve as leaders, healers and warriors. The bold children taught him to stand his ground against the threat of chipmunks and jays that called mocking cries from the trees. The shy ones taught him gentleness. He was trusted to lie beside the sleeping skin of a newborn babe and would not show his teeth even as the small ones pulled his ears and used his tail to find their balance.
His patience earned him the name of Amidor, which means generation of my people. He belonged to the generation of youths that would determine the tribe's future.
As his legs lengthened and his wind allowed for long runs, he was called to run with the oldest boys as they sought to bring down their first deer. His eyes readily followed the hands that sent him downwind or forced him to drop to his belly despite the alluring scent of a fawn in the near distance. Amidor never once spoiled a hunt. He was clever enough to circle round and drive the target away from the open prairie to be taken by a well-aimed arrow. He never seemed to tire and would even fetch lengths of wood like a dog, delighting in a game of tug-of-war when boys would try to take the stick away. Though his growl could be fierce, his tail would always wag and when the game was ended he would lick the hand that held his prize just moments before.
The people of the tribe so love their companion and protector that they collect clumps of his fur to weave into the ends of their braids as a token for luck.
Story by Pureflower
Profile by User not found: depression
Art by User not found: shizuo
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Pet Treasure
Uncooked Fish
Slab of Raw Meat
Fish Bones
Kyndir