Wapun Meadow I won't turn back anymore

It’s fine, no need to apologize! I assumed you were busy. c:

The longer he sat in wait, the more restless he became. A plan had been made prior to the start of his journey, but the fog had successfully ruined the entire thing. It was left in tatters, completely unsalvageable, which only served as fuel for the growing flame that was his anger. In that moment, more than anything else, he wanted to return home. He didn’t even care if he ran the risk of running into Burke, he just wanted to return to the shaded comfort of the darkened woods. Determination settled itself into his mind, urging him to stand and set out through the thickening fog once more, and he almost complied. Almost. In the last second, he’d managed to stop himself, forcing his rump to remain plastered to the cool ground. Though he’d won the internal battle with himself, he was still rather fidgety. It felt as if his paws were quite literally itching to start trekking across the haze-filled land once more. It was one of the few times since leaving the valley that he’d felt the full penalty that came with not giving in to his inherited wanderlust.

Suddenly, a coarse sound broke through the silence that surrounded him, causing his fur to prickle and ears to stand erect atop his crown. He recognized the sound as coughing, but whoever had decided to disturb him remained unknown. The boy rose his muzzle to the air and inhaled in an attempt to pluck a scent from the wind, but it was useless. All that he received was the scent of a dew-filled morning, which aggravated him even more. Knowing he had no other choice but to investigate, the pallid wolf stood and, with cautious steps, began walking through the fog. All the while his hackles were raised and his head lowered, knowing better than to leave his throat exposed. If it turned out that the owner of the coughing was a threat, he didn’t want to be the one to end up dead.

Alexander had to listen carefully, finding the idea of walking right past the other creature far too risky. With his line of visibility lessened, he was certain his reaction time wouldn’t be fast enough to save him if he made the mistake of turning his back to the unknown being. It took only a few steps, however, before his worries were cleared. Through the mist, he could just barely make out the form of another wolf. The size was similar to his own, informing him that they were either someone his age or fairly close. With the element of surprise on his side, he crouched down and started creeping forward, before launching himself towards the abstract shape with paws outstretched. Originally, his goal had been to pin the other down and demand to hear their intentions, but that all changed the second he was close enough to actually see who it was. Her coat was familiar to him and, even without seeing her face, he somehow knew exactly who she was. Something just clicked within the back of his mind, and before he knew it he was twisting his body mid-jump to avoid crashing into her.

His landing was anything but graceful, having been entirely improvised. He’d stumbled as his front paws connected with the earth once more, causing his feet to get a bit jumbled up as his hind legs touched down. As a result, Xan had fallen over, completing a full tumble before jumping back to his feet and settling his gaze on his sister. It’d been so long since he’d seen her last, he almost couldn’t believe she was right there in front of him. A part of him was happy to be reunited with her, but the more dominant side of his mind couldn’t help but wonder why she was there. A second-long war went on between his emotions, but in the end, his anger and sadness won. Quickly, he hardened his gaze and then brought it up to meet hers, reluctant to visibly share all that was running through his head. “Why are you here?” the Inuit asked, voice low and uncertain. While he’d somehow managed to keep his face neutral, he could not do the same with his voice. His tone alone betrayed all that he felt in that moment, as well as what he’d felt back when they’d chosen separate paths.