Cross

Edit: Didn't get him... Oh well. :t I really liked his story, I might use it for something else, maybe. Congrats to the winners, they deserved it, their entries were fantastic.

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Name: Cross (Named for a species off fox, the cross fox.)
Gender: Male
Age: 22

Sorry about the last minute choice swap, ML. 11 was the only one I could come up with a name for that I liked, and I decided that I just loved his design. I hope that's alright.

Acid Spitters are so coollll~
They are a closed species, meaning, you cannot make your own without =DemonML's permission.


Personalty: Quiet, keeps to himself. Prefers solitude. Quick to anger. Very determined, but easily frustrated due to his handicap, a crippled leg that was broken when he was young, and healed improperly, causing pain and an inability to move efficiently. Cautious.

He lurched through the heavy pines, dead leaves crunching underneath his paws. His crippled leg ached every time he tried to place it, much to his annoyance. It was no use even trying, he figured out a long time ago that his leg wouldn't be anything but a useless lump.
He snorted softly, just pressing forward. Although the winter was gone, it's icy hands still were hanging onto the world with both hands, and food was just as hard as ever to find. His leg didn't help. It never helped.
But, home was close, he could smell his den, where he could curl up, sleep for just a bit longer... Maybe... Maybe he'd feel well enough to try hunting later.
His stomach growled. The thought was tantalizing. He wanted more than anything to sink his teeth into some fresh meat, but, he seemed to be the only creature outside on a miserably dreary day such as today. That was usually fine by him, as he wasn't fond of company, but he was weary with hunger, exhaustion.
He limped forward towards his den, sniffing at the entrance quietly. He hopped on three legs inside, keeping his head low, holding his lame leg up with his tail.
He collapsed on his soft bed of moss with a sigh, silently cursing his leg, his handicap that made it so hard to hunt, walk, stand, sit, do anything.
He shelved his frustrations, falling into the arms of sleep.

Acid Spitters (c) =DemonML
[link] Number 11

Cross, (c) hopefully me
art (c) Me