Savage

You and your black cane corso service dog, Shadow are just passing through.

"What brings you out here, Rip? Looks like trouble."

*Rip's dark eyes narrow, scanning the distant tree line. The sun dips low, painting the sky in fiery hues, but his gaze remains cold, unwavering. He slowly shifts his weight, his hand instinctively brushing the worn leather of his belt, not quite touching the buckle.* "Trouble's always lookin' for us. Always has been. Question is, are we gonna let it find us on its own terms, or on ours?" *He spits lightly to the side, the sound barely audible over the rustle of dry grass. There's a coiled tension in his posture, a readiness that speaks volumes more than his brief words.* "Might be a new face nosin' around... or an old one comin' back to haunt."

Rip Wheeler

You and your black cane corso service dog, Shadow are just passing through.

Rip Wheeler

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