The time had finally arrived for him to leave the mountain and make his way to the shore, the need to seek out that which he'd felt he'd lost burning a hole right through his chest. Worry gnawed at his nerves and state of mind, whispers of various 'what if's' flowing freely through his mind. He could not prevent the thoughts, nor could he force them away. They were ever present, filling him with more and more fear with each step he took. When the scent of the ocean touched his nose, he froze, unable to take a single step further. His body would not move no matter how much he willed it to do so, gluing him down between the mountain and the sea. In an attempt to escape reality, he contemplated turning around and returning to Silvertip, pretending he'd never set foot in the direction of his old friend's homeland, but even that was an impossible feat. His body would move in neither direction, it had seemed, forcing him to do nothing but look out towards the salty waves.
There he remained for an unknown amount of time, his conscious self having zoned out too often for him to keep track of the seconds that crawled by. Eventually, however, he was shaken back to his senses as a chilly breeze raced down his spine. Alastor gave a good, hard shake of his head before forcing his legs to move forward, once more working to close the distance between himself and the bay. It was a difficult task, far more so than he ever would have imagined, but it was one he had eventually been successful in completing. Before he knew it, his paws had touched the space where a border was once present, the distantly familiar scent stale. He was certain, then, that a pack no longer inhabited the lands. No longer did he know of where his friend was, or how he could find him again. There was no longer a reason behind his want to stay so close to the sea.
Alastor crossed the threshold into the territory, his movements slower than usual as he wandered deeper into what once was a pack's home. He carried on through the forest, stopping only when he could feel sand seeping in between his toes. His gaze trailed out over the sea, though his mind was miles away. It became apparent that he had arrived too late, and there was nothing he could do to change that. The pack was gone, as was his friend, leaving him uncertain of what path he might take next. To stay at the mountain or carry on with his life elsewhere—it was a decision he could not make, not at the moment.
Stavanger Bay had been on Floki's mind as of late; not because he regretted the move to Moonspear, but because he had visited recently with Wildfire. He also yearned to see his father's grave. Tevinter had told him that it appeared that someone was tending to it, and the brothers had promised to visit together. They hadn't yet, so Floki took matters into his own hands and departed from Moonspear as soon as the sun rose.
The air was cold and brisk, and the lowlands around his mountain home were coated with snow. As he moved towards the coast, however, the temperature rose -- if only slightly -- and the frost gave way to dampness. The scout followed a trail that was all too familiar, leading him into the heart of Stavanger Bay's forest rather than to the ocean -- though he could smell the salty breeze and hear the thrumming of the waves in the distance.
All was quiet and undisturbed, but he stopped short when an unfamiliar smell reached his nostrils. Someone else was in the wood. The boy bristled, becoming defensive as he crept forward, moving through the dense underbrush towards the beach. Soon enough, he crested the dunes and left the trees behind him; down below he spotted a grey figure, standing motionless by the sea. Wary, Floki chuffed, but said no more.
The breeze that flew in from over the sea was different than that of the mountain. It held a salty tang, which he could taste on his tongue and feel stinging his eyes and nose. Suprisingly enough, however, it did not bother him. Once before, he'd lived close to a sea and had ejoyed visiting it with his family. It'd been ages since then, of course, but it still did not lessen his familiarity with the dangerous waters. One wrong move and he'd end up being swept out into deeper waters, carried along by strong currents and dragged below by aggressive undertows. The idea of that happening had often frigthened him as a boy, but now he couldn't help but think of how peaceful it might be. The death would most likely be slow, but the release felt afterwards would be worth it. He would not be tortured by his own mind, all of his decisions would be made for him. It was a simple answer, and one he found himself giving a great deal of thought towards.
With obvious hesitation, his front paw had risen as he'd decided to take a step forward, but it was put right back into its original place in a moment's notice. His brow furrowed as he'd glanced down at his own legs, willing them to move forward, but they refused to answer his silent command. Then there came a chuff, which caught him off guard, and he swirled around with his hackles raised. Having been too caught up within his own mind, Alastor hadn't even heard the younger male's approach. Upon realizing that the boy was of no threat to his safety, the Greek's coat flattened back down, though his demeanor remained standoffish. He was uncertain of the stranger, and rightfully so, but did not feel threatened—for the moment, anyways.
"What brings you here?" he questioned slowly, voice lower than usual. There was a memory present in his mind of a time spent with Aesop, portraying the elder's reasoning for needing to remain closer to his home. He had said that someone within his pack was expecting, and the time passed since then could, perhaps, match the boy standing across from him. He wished to ask, to learn of where his friend might have gone, but decided against it for the time being. It was best to wait, he felt, just in case the male was only passing through and had never even been to the bay before. It would be embarrassing to assume, after all, as well as highly disappointing if it turned out to be true.
The other wolf was defensive, at first, but his hackles soon smoothed as Floki continued forward and closed the gap. Just as the stranger realized that Floki meant him no harm, the former Bay wolf came to the same understanding. Despite Floki's attachment to this beach, he had no true right to chase anyone away from it -- now it was neutral and available for any and all wolves to visit.
Beneath his feet, the sand was rough and familiar, although he did notice that it felt colder now that they were well into winter. He made his way across the shifting dune and came to stand a few feet from the grey male, keeping ample personal space between them as a question was posed. "I used to live here," Floki replied, leaving it at that until he was asked to share more information.
The other walked closer, leaving just enough space to keep things comfortable—something the Greek appreciated more than he'd realized. His answer had the elder momentarily stunned, but relief slowly started to flood his system. The boy once lived there, meaning he'd been a bay wolf before the pack had departed from the land. Perhaps he even held the answer to the question that had been nagging at him ever since the bypass fell to ruins. "You were a bay wolf, then?" he began, needing to confirm it before getting his hopes up too high. "When you lived here, did you know someone named Aesop?" Maybe the older man had left with his pack, maybe his location could be given.
Before getting too far ahead of himself, Alastor was reminded of his manners. If the younger could provide some sort of insight that might ease his mind, then the least he could do was be courteous. "My name is Alastor. I knew someone who lived here once, but it seems you all have moved away." He did not know if they were still one whole as a pack, or if they'd split off onto individual paths. The prior sounded more appealing to him, if only because that might increase his chances of seeing his friend again.
Floki was constantly surprised at what a small world it truly was. Although the Teekon Wilds were expansive and held a number of wolf packs, there seemed to always be some sort of connection to be made. He thought briefly of his last visit to Stavanger Bay, when he and Wildfire had run into Dante from Donnelaith and found out that the former Alpha was now Wildfire's uncle by marriage.
"Yes, my name is Floki Lodbrok. My parents were the Alphas of the Bay," he replied with a gentle swish of his tail. Had his family not been so splintered and traumatized, he might have taken pride in his Viking roots -- as it were, he simply gave the information since this wolf seemed to be familiar with the pack, to an extent. The name Aesop did ring a bell, though Floki hadn't thought of the older wolf in quite some time. He had departed while he was still young.
"I do know Aesop, though I haven't seen him in a long time. He left us a while ago, and I'm not sure where he went. I'm sorry," he said, feeling a pang of sympathy and regret even though he hardly knew Alastor. As for what had happened to the pack, he explained, "We moved to a mountain south of here called Moonspear, along with the wolves from the Sunspire."
It was an odd sounding name, to Alastor at least, but he'd accepted it into his memory as belonging to the boy. Though he was uncertain if they would ever meet again after their current interaction, it never hurt to keep track of names and who they belonged to. He found it to be a polite gesture, in a way, and refused to act rudely—even when it was revealed that the younger knew not of where his friend was. The good thing was that at least he'd heard of the older fellow, meaning he'd stuck around for the birth of the litter. He'd completed what he'd said he was going to, but that didn't make his official absence any easier to accept. With a soft shake of his head, he said, "You don't need to apologize. After not seeing him for so long, I had assumed it meant I never would again. At least I know that he'd made it back to the Bay at one point..." That was another plus to the dark news that was his friend's mysterious disappearance. He didn't want to believe that the man had left his pack willingly, since that seemed so unlike him, but that left for only the worst to be assumed; another thing he didn't want to think about.
Alastor perked up a bit as information concerning the pack was given, and he found it interesting that they'd abandoned the sea entirely. "What drove you all to decide on leaving the sea behind you?" The storm must have been an ugly sight, but he couldn't imagine it was awful enough to force them away from their home. Aesop had spoken highly of the bay-bound pack, so for them to have moved so far was a somewhat interesting development. "Do you think Aesop would look for you all again? If he ever returns, that is."
Floki pressed his lips together sympathetically as Alastor mused on Aesop's whereabouts. He truly didn't know the circumstances of the older wolf's departure; he had simply left the Bay without a word. The youth couldn't say whether or not that was an aspect of Aesop's nature, but he was inclined to believe so -- from his experience, all wolves were transient beings that came and went for different reasons. He had lost nearly all of his siblings to this fact, and had simply resigned himself to the truth.
Alastor's next question was not surprising. Many wolves wondered why the long-standing Stavanger Bay pack had relocated. "My brother, Charon, was our Beta and he was worried that we wouldn't make it through the winter. Our pack had become really small, so he ended up striking a deal with Amekaze from the Sunspire. They were a small pack too, so we decided to merge and move to a new location," he explained. It was unorthodox, perhaps, but it had been necessary to preserve the lives of all wolves involved.
As for Aesop, he gave a gentle shrug. "Maybe. I hope he would be able to find his way to Moonspear if he did come back here. I try to visit frequently, so maybe I'll come across his scent one of these days," he said hopefully.
The was a part of him that considered the worst of fates to had befallen his friend, for it seemed more believable than the elder departing without reason. For someone who longed to explore and see all the sights he could, perhaps he should have understood that some wolves just wished to wander and touch the farthest reaches of land possible for them. However, he didn't want to believe, or even think, that the same calling had claimed Aesop. The male had seemed like a devoted individual, loyal to his pack and those within it. Alastor just didn't want to think that those thinks could be so easily left behind by him—that the Greek himself could just be left behind.
Alastor listened as he was told of why the pack had left, and found the reasoning to be understandable. For smaller packs, merging with another could often prove to be more beneficial for all parties involved. While he'd never experienced a merger first hand, or even truly heard of one going underway until then, he could see why they'd chosen to do so. "Your brother must really care for all of you," he noted a bit absentmindedly, then chased the thought from his mind. "The new location... where might it be?" Curiosity forced him to ask, though whether or not he'd ever journey to see it for himself was debatable. There were still many areas closer to his current home that he'd yet to see, and felt it important he knock those off the list before traveling greater distances.
There was a sliver of hope struck into the male's chest then, and his tail sway slightly without him realizing it. "If you ever come across his scent, would you mind letting me know?" There was no guarentee the cream-coloured man would return, but to have that safety net in place just in case kept the argent boy's mood from spiraling downward into a dark abyss. "I live near here, on Silvertip Mountain. Even if it's just a quick howl as you're passing by, I would appreciate it immensely."
The youth nodded. Alastor was right, at least in Floki's eyes -- Charon had taken action to save the pack from a wintry demise. There had been wolves who didn't trust his judgment initially, if only because he was young and inexperienced, but it had all turned out for the best, hadn't it? Floki had no complaints, and hadn't heard any from his packmates residing on the mountain.
"It's south of here; not the first mountain range you come to, but the second," he replied, conjuring a mental map of the Teekon Wilds. He hadn't explored Moonstone Quarry or Ouroboros Spine, but had passed them enough times on his journeys back and forth between Moonspear and Stavanger Bay. When Alastor redirected the conversation back to Aesop, the boy bobbed his head once more. The name of his pack was not familiar, but he was sure that he would be able to find it if necessary.
"Absolutely. I will keep you posted," he said. If Silvertip Mountain was near the bay, it would be easy to relay a message if Aesop showed up. Now, he just had to hope that the older wolf would return sooner or later.
Directions were given and the foreigner happily accepted them. He'd yet to travel so far south that he'd reached any ranges, so being told of where the boy's pack resided morphed into a tempting offer. Inwardly, he shook the thoughts away, knowing he couldn't go so far just yet. He was sure his current voyages weren't well appreciated, for he'd come and gone from the mountain without any real warning. If he could realize his actions and look at them from someone else's point of view, surely he would have deemed himself a troublesome case. For the time being, however, doing so was out of the question. All he had to go by to keep him from trekking so far was the fact that he hadn't been around Silvertip very much, and that that probably wasn't looked upon with glee.
"Thank you," he returned, his words being followed by a slight lowering of his crown. It was a relief that the kid had turned out to be a pretty kind wolf, or else Alastor didn't know what he would have done. Slowly, his head turned to look off in the direction of his home, knowing it was time for him to return. If Aesop were to return someday soon, he didn't want to be thought of as some freeloader by his friend. "I apologize, but I think it's time for me to return home," he said, looking back to the younger male. "There's some things I must take care of, just in case he returns soon." With that, he gave a smile and a brief farewell, before making his way past the boy. His course was set for the mountain, knowing he would need to better himself while he awaited his friend's return.
"I understand," Floki said as Alastor excused himself. "Safe travels," he called, his voice carrying on the salty breeze. He stood with his paws sinking into the cold sand until Alastor had disappeared from view, then then he turned to glance at the ocean. It had no advice to offer him; it just continued to churn stoically, the ebb and flow of its waves never ending.
Before returning home, Floki decided to scour the beach quickly for any sign of Aesop's presence. When he found none, he started the trek home.