Rock!

On the ground there sat a rock, who's name was Rock, and very appearance was that of a rock. It was a dark grey in color, so that it stood out distinctly from the snow covered ground of the Alaskan world.

Known for being repeatedly quiet, and underspoken, Rock was a friend to all who passed by, even if they mistook him for your nomal piece of worn stone and stepped on his face. Then again, it was hard to tell exactly WHERE his face was.

Rock was sitting on the ground enjoying the usual day in Nome, Alaska. The sun beamed down upon his gruff exterior, warming him to the point where he thought he would melt into a puddle of useless minerals; but thankfully for him he didn't.

The only reason he was enjoying this day, which was as pointless and boring as all others, was because he knew his time was limited. The winds blew harder and harder every day, eroding him at a faster pace than usual. He figured he only had five or six hundred years left to "live", which meant there was no time to waste in his misunderstood life.

He only wished he had some company with which to sit with....

As Vesta jogged slowly across the snow, paws slopping through partially thawed mucky browntinged spots here and there (being springtime in this RP), she dropped her nose low to sniff at the occasional ice chunk or tuft of grass poking its way up from the white frozen surface. Suddenly, her brilliant green/amber eyes caught sight of something large-ish and grey lying silently in the dirt. Curiousity getting the better of her, she turned and approached the object, ears flicking forward then back, forward then back, nostrils quivering open. It wasn't that she'd never seen a rock before...it was just that this one seemed to be thinking about something, and that fact made her more interested in this rock than in the thousands of others she'd passed every day.
She leaned down, and touched her nose to the rocks smooth grey back, leaving a damp mark with her cool nose leather, then she nudged the rock with her muzzle, rolling it slightly. Tipping her masked face and whining quietly, she sat down to regard the the rock with eager expression as if it were about to tell her the story of its probably thousands of years of existence...

*edited since it seems nobody else is interested in rocks*
Vesta sighed and very gently picked Rock up in her muzzle, warming him against her tongue, then she stood up, an idea forming in her mind. Carrying him like a really hard ball, she trotted silently across the tundra, paws slpping back through the muddy spots they'd trudged through before. She rolled Rock in her jaws lightly, and dropped him with a plop in the dirt next to a smaller, slightly browner rock. It was the least she could do.