Nocturne Summit the spine can't decide between the earth and the sky

June 18, 2018: PM, 68°F, clear.

His decision to leave is not met with contempt. It is in their blood to want to travel and see the world and, to his experience he could go anywhere and just about expect one of his own to be there. Wanderlust is often encouraged and surely it’s because there’s nothing to be done to stop it. Atlantis is met with support of his desires and a place to return to, should he feel the need, and he makes his way north for the next several weeks.
 
On some level, there is a loneliness he will never admit to. No longer does he have his family at a short howl through the woods, depending on building up his own connections to turn to—should he find what he’s looking for (and he doesn’t know what he’s looking for). The mountain range remains to his left as he moves, traveling it with ease; he has nowhere in particular to be and there is no urgency in his gait. The woods rested against a mountain range, giving two mountain dwelling alphas the space they need to stretch their legs in high altitudes. Most of their children fell into those footsteps and he can scale high rises up and own with relative ease.
 
The sun hangs high in the sky, heating up the day, but the shade of the higher summit and wind blowing upward offers a gentle relief. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, cooling him off as he settles near the edge of a rise, overlooking terrain he’s yet to set foot on but excited to explore. Licking his lips, watching life exist below him without the knowledge there is an overseer amongst them.