Snowforest Taiga a wandering soul Traveling a well worn road

All Welcome! John is traveling to the coast. Anyone can run into him and will be extra welcome if they can help him find the way to the coast. He’s going around the Sunspires, not over them.

John had headed north from the bypass into the region Snowforest Taiga, where the land was still cold and snowed over. In his mouth he carried his bag of provisions, only eating when he had to, as he had a long journey ahead.

Here in this land of ice, he found a spot to rest, take a breather,  between Phoenix maplewood and Silver Moraine. Here, he rested, warming him paws and the rest of his body.

Thankfully, he hadn’t caught the scents of any nearby packs, so for now, he felt safe.

He'd watched the man settle in, hungry gaze flicking to the pack of provisions placed carefully near him. As far as Boris could tell, he hadn't been spotted. Not yet. A shift on his still oversized paws; an ache in the pit of his sunken belly.

Tall ears twitched, and he toyed with the small stone clutched in his mouth as he powered at the man from his hiding place. A back up plan, if his first plan fell through; if the man never closed his eyes to let the sun warm him; if he never settled in to some sort of restful stupor that lulled his mind into sleepy serenity, a lowering of his guard.

Boris waited, desperation and patience warring in every shake of his bony legs.

Here's a hungry little thief for you!

He’d relaxed easily, the sun warming his back. He’d have no problem resting his eyes, giving way to a light sleep before he’d move on north. He looked around, taking in the beauty God created as nature. The trees knew when spring was near, as new leave were blossoming on the branches; each and every thing on the earth created so specifically.

It was just as he’d went to lay his head down, did a faint sound catch his ear. Footsteps perhaps? A rabbit, a deer? No, it was neither of those, and as he lifted his head just enough to look in the direction of the sound, it caught his eye. A dark figure, with eyes peeking out of a bush.

He whiffed the air, the faintest scent of wolf. He made no swift movements, and remained calm despite the bristling of his hackles.

“Hello.” He gently barked, “I mean no harm. Please, let me see you.”

Jaclyn! You’re welcome in my threads any day. And you’ve got a new toon. :D

The man never did close his eyes. Instead, he turned towards him, seeming to sense him there, to see him, though Boris did not wish to be seen. He did not wish to be found - not by a stranger, anyway. Sometimes he pictured the bright eyes of Bronte or Ponyboy lighting upon him through the shadows, delighted to find him after many long months of looking. But of course, they never came.

Sometimes, he wondered if they'd even noticed. They had always been so wrapped up in each other.

Boris ducked down, but the man already called out to him, and with a silent breath he let the rock drop from his jaws. He wouldn't need the stone anymore, anyways; it would only have been the means to the end of distracting the man while he snatched up the pouch and hid himself again. A different tactic now. There was something gentle about the stranger, but how could he know this one wouldn't pull his leg, and he'd end up like papa at the jaws of the cat?

So Boris simply peered around the bush again to see the man who called to him, cool water eyes unblinking.

<33!! aww thank you! I love threading with you :D hehe and he is my runaway sad boy from Brecheliant ;__; Figured if John is looking for lost pups, why not find another? haha! <3

Whoever hid among the bushes did not emerge from their hiding spot, perhaps out of fear they had been caught, or startled by him as a stranger. His ocean eyes gently flicked around, examine the bushed from afar, he did not get up, but remained in his resting position. No voice called out in response, yet he called out again: “Do not be afraid, I am John, a man of peace and of God.”

Through his head ran scenarios, maybe it was a loner, looking for a meal, or someone lost…. It couldn’t be one of Heda’s, for he was too far from the western coast. 

“Come, sit with me. If you are hungry, I have food to share.”

The stranger did not move, and neither did Boris, but from the safety of his hiding place, he could see the man well enough, framed between the leaves. The easy way he looked about him. The gentle glint in his eyes. The soft wave of his voice, like a springtime breeze.

Do not be afraid, yet fear still gripped him. The shaking of his forelegs. A sick twist of the gut. Go out to this stranger and eat with him? That had never been the plan. But if he didn't go out now, the man would turn and leave, wouldn't he? Taking with him the food he offered.

Boris licked his lips, and yawned with a pitched whine. Then, he crawled from the shadows, bony frame shuddering the spindly branches around him. Hunched over and cowering like a kicked puppy, gaze flicking to the provisions, then back to stare at the man of God - wherever, or whoever, that was.

It took time until a young man crawled out from the bushes, he looked hungry, alone. He wondered why on earth such a young boy would be on his own, as most dispersals left at a year, or even two. John spoke gently as  the boy crawled close, showing submission, fear, but hunger as he glanced between John and the food.

“Here.” He said as he nudged a piece towards the boy, “It’s all yours.” He studied him, took in his scent, “What is your name? Are you far from home?” 

Hunger drove him. Hunger - and if he'd been brave enough to admit it, that longing in the heart of every wolf for companionship, for company. Brecheliant held the last whispers of his voice. Sometimes, he had thought about talking to himself - but that would mean he had become crazy. And though he had long lost any signs of strength he'd once packed onto his rail-thin bones, he hadn't lost his mind. He still counted the stars. Still wished he could put more lights in the sky so papa could find his way down to him, like he'd done for mama and Bronte and Ponyboy and Killdeer.

When John nosed the food towards him, Boris first reached out with a long, careful sniff. Irresistible. But Boris knew better than to gobble it down so quick, else it'd come right back up. He took hold of the food with long teeth, drool sliding down his chin, and pulled it towards him so he could eat while still keeping a careful eye on John.

He'd said it was his. All of it, but Boris gave him an incredulous glance. All of it? his voice came, hoarse and lower than he'd remembered, and he flinched at the shock of hearing himself but not himself. Not himself. More like dad.

How long had been gone from Brecheliant?

He answered John's questions, if only to hear Bronco again. B-Boris, he offered, small and mumbled, and this time, very un-dad like. His heart fell. And as for home? I-I guess, he gave a shrug, I dunno... in mama's arms, in Bronte's laughs, in Ponyboy's mischief, in papa's voice, don't really know where it is, anymore.

The boy reached out carefully, and perhaps even politely, to grab the food he was offered. He asked if it was all for himself, and John gave a gentle nod of his head. “Of course.” As he ate what John gave, the boy’s eyes never really left John, which was understandable, John was the stranger here, at least to the boy.

After he’d eaten, he allowed himself to speak, and John listened to the broken up sentences. His name was Boris, and a fine, strong name it was, but as for a home, family, Boris didn’t answer that, at least, not a real answer. He could delve into Boris’s background later, for now, he would just try and warm him up, create conversation.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Boris. I have to say, that’s quite a strong name, one I’ve not heard before.” After, John then decided he would tell Boris of his journey, adventure is usually something youths find exciting. “I am on a journey to reach the western coast, searching for lost family.” He then looked to Boris with a playful smile, “What about you? Looking for your next adventure?”

All of it.

What kind of stranger did that? Offer all his food to something like him? Boris ate half of it, and when he was finished, said, thank you, but, he nudged the other half the older man's way, even though his own stomach still twisted with the want for more, you should have some, too.

Oh, um, t-thank you, His face warmed at the compliment, appreciative and embarrassed. He hasn't done real good of living up to that strength. But he said, my mom chose it, obvious trivia, a waste of air - but he didn't know what else to say.

John's story pricked his heart with a heat that flushed his eyes, as he wondered again, was anybody looking for him? Boris blinked away the soft film of tears that had threatened to spill down his cheeks, and hoped they wouldn't come back. To John's question, he shrugged. Railthin, rangy, and recluse. Those didn't much add up to someone looking for adventure. No, he said, just tryin' to survive.

I'm sorry, though... 'bout your family, had John's question been a kind of invitation? He'd already shown himself to be kind... but there was a big difference between feeding a kid out of pity, and letting him tag along. Who but Brecheliant would ever want him? Boris toed the ground. Are you... um... lookin' alone?

The young man had begun to come out of his shell before John, a touch of generosity in return. Boris had eaten his share of the meat, then passed it back to John, insisting that he eat too. “You are very welcome. And you’re right, thank you, Boris.” He said gratefully, then dipped his head to silently pray a short prayer. Upon opening his eyes, he ate the last half, finishing with a lick of his chops. Boris thank him for the compliment on his name, telling that his mother chose it. “Mothers’ are good at many thing, especially names.” He gave a chuckle, then his expression softened, it seemed as if Boris had been subtly asking something. He carried on causally, but he had an idea of what the young man was asking. “It’s okay. There had been turmoil, our group was separated, some went their own ways.”
A spirited smile lifted the corners of his lips “I was, but I believe a journey is best shared with others. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Boris watched the man's mannerisms. In some ways, he reminded him of mama. His softness, he thought, or the way he reverently bowed... though Boris could not remember if mama ever bowed, or if the memory was one he had made up for her somewhere along the way. Perhaps even now, as he sought familiarity in the stranger, and the strange world he had fittingly stepped into.

Mothers were good at many things. Holding close and naming stars and making you feel like the world could not touch you, as long as you stayed wrapped up in her arms. Boris simply blinked and bowed his head in a tiny nod. I s'pose. Even though he knew. Say any more, and the hot tears would break the thin walls they piled up behind.

I know what that's like, Boris said, my dad's dead. And he wondered if a monster had found John family, too. Maybe everyone scattered when things like that happened. Maybe his mama didn't think of him and didn't look for him because monsters tore apart, and she knew this better than him, and didn't expect anything different in the aftermath.

Or maybe he should have brought her with. She'd wanted to leave, anyways. It was Bronte and Ponyboy who had pressed so hard to stay.

It sure feels a lot safer, when you've got someone else t'watch your back, not that he could give much of that in return, or tell stories with, or count stars with, he shrugged, and glanced away. Or prissy stuff like that. I don't think I'm much good for much more than that.

John stood upon his feet, getting ready to grab his fur bag and move on, with his new travel buddy in tow. He listened intently on what Boris had told him, but when he mentioned his father, John had no words, or at least, not many that haven’t already been said. “Oh. I’m so sorry.” He said solemnly, not sure what else to say. He did however reach to put his paw gently upon Boris’. Perhaps it would be best to move on to the next topic. 

“Tis true. We wolves were meant to be together, safety in numbers, family.” He tried his best to lift his spirits, and hopefully Boris’ too. “No, don’t be hard on yourself. I’m sure there is much more to you than you may think, perhaps you just have yet to find your niche.”

He turned his body, motioning with his head to show Boris the direction in which they’d start off. “For a couple days time, we’ll keep going north west, to the sea.”

From there, the two would find their way, and once they reach the coast, it shouldn’t be hard to reach where he and the island family started out from the island all those months ago.