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[font=georgia][ N E L S O N ]
He was hopelessly, hopelessly lost.
Cracked and aching paws carried the young, three month old German Shepherd puppy across the harsh desert at a slowing pace as fatigue set in. He had been walking for a day, which didn't seem long, but to the domestic dog who had been in training to be a police dog, it was a long way. Especially since he was only young, and not used to doing much other than playing and basic training. He already knew how to sit, but to find his way home? That was another thing entirely.
Pausing, the black pup wagged his tail in stiff fear as he scented something strange on the wind. Continuing in his path, but a lot slower, Nelson soon spotted dead bodies laying littered around in what seemed faintly like a border, a line, and where he came from, a line meant stop. So he did. Just froze, like that, looking around, until he realised there was no-one there but him and his master wasn't telling him to heel... A mischievous glint shone in his dark brown eyes and he bounded forward, renewed strength coursing through his veins as he made a leap over a body and unknowingly into BloodClan territory.
Stopping again, pale salmon tongue lolling, Nelson looked around again, still seeing nothing but a long expanse of sand ahead of him. The German Shepherd whined, and let loose a long, wavering, pup-like howl, expecting to hear a reply from his siblings or parents, or a yell of recognition and a strong hand on his head from his master. But no, nothing. One ear flopped down over his ear and he whimpered, sitting down and letting his fluffy tail swishing the floor as he waited for someone, anyone, to come find him.
