December 17, 2019, 12:24 PM
‘You and Hop are gonna do just fine out here. Don’t you two get into any trouble, now…’
The last words from the old man just moments before he had opened the doors to the rusted pickup truck and let them run in the field of snow. Cricket had not understood it. He had remembered feeling the rush of joy at being allowed to run in the open – something that he had not experienced much of on Knox farm. The two halflings had chased and played until they could hardly stand. But when the young boy had turned back to where the farmer had been in his truck, there was no one there. Cricket and his sister had tracked the scent of the old man for as far as they could manage before it had disappeared, along with their hope of returning home.
That event had been more than six months prior to the boy reaching the Teekon territory. Cricket and Hopper had learned a fair bit about surviving on their own. They were still thin, hardly capable of hunting for themselves, but they had managed. Learning to catch rabbits and weasels had been enough to sustain them on their travels. The moon eyed boy still thought frequently of home and the warm foods that had been shared with them by the old man.
Snow blanketed the field where he stood. The cool silver of his gaze traveled along the distant landscapes with curiosity. Cricket had lost Hopper several miles back and had been unable to pick up her scent again. The boy had done his best to leave as many markings for her to follow as he could. He still felt the pangs of loneliness in her absence. Trekking across the white field, the wolfdog watched for signs of life.