Sequoia Coast life in technicolor

@Boris

John had gone off to the island, leaving the two yearlings on their own, but had promised to return as soon as he had learned more about the fate of the children he had been looking for. Esma had almost volunteered to go with him, since she did not particularly wish to stay alone with Boris. But in a battle between her fear of the vast, vast waters or hours spent in an awkward silence with another wolf, the latter option won. She saw her friend off as far as she felt comfortable going and then returned to the place they had camped out the previous night. 

Even though the two had spent more time together, that void between them still existed. Esma wanted herself to be more talkative, to not give an impression of her being dumb, but she found great difficulty of starting a conversation. And the fellow - well - he did not help her much either. He too kept to himself and she could only guess, what was going on in his mind. Therefore now too, after giving a nod of acknowledgment, she went to lie down, resting her chin on a large piece of driftwood. There she lied, looking in the distance, trying to guess, what lied behind that thin line, where the ocean and sky met. 

While Esma saw John off, Boris held the camp. They'd dig a proper cache to store with food they'd caught that morning: some fish, a rabbit, a collection of berries pulled from further in the woods. He'd volunteered himself, largely because Esma seemed keen to see their friend to the shore. Secretly, because he wished she'd go with him, and he'd have the night to himself without the worry of every awkward moment that was sure to pass between them while they waited for John to return.

To his dismay, Esma did not follow John, and even worse (or maybe better?) when she returned, she gave him the same silent nod she always did and slipped far enough away he could still see her, and left him still felt the edge of needing to say something - but still having nothing to give.

What do I ask her? Where are you from? I've already heard so much already from when I've heard her talking with John. And she's probably been asked that so many times before. Ugh, I'm so boring! And I don't want to irritate her. What if she doesn't want to talk with me? Maybe that's why she hasn't tried yet? She talks with John just fine. I talk with him fine, too. But John's different, he's already a grown up. Ugh, I know mom taught me better! I wish dad was still here.

Did you know the stars are actually pieces of the moon? he blurted out, remembering her questions and wonders at the ocean, and thinking of his dad. It was too bright to see any stars still, but it was all his mind had to give.

He already wished he could shrink back in on himself and never talk again.