It was warmer away from the Spine, down by the dreary grey coast. Dutch had never seen the ocean before, but something about it made him feel both larger than himself and very, very small.
He had been told that his father loved the sea, and that his grandfather had once taken a wife from its depths. But neither he nor his mother were born from the sea spirit he'd wed, so Dutch had to assume this love came from Aditya alone.
On the shore, he built and altar of rocks and kelp, and then bowed his head to pray, Grandfather? If you're listening, please tell my father that I've been searching for him. Please tell momma that I love her, and tell Anjali not to get bigger than me while we're apart. Please fill me with your spirit and your strength.
That done, he stood and looked around with his bright, orange eyes, as if Aditya might suddenly appear to him. It did not happen this way, of course, so he sighed and sent up another loud, hopeful howl — but then made sure to pick himself up and carry on before he could hope for a response. He headed for the water, where he hoped to test the saltiness that he'd been warned about for himself.
He sniffed along the shore, searching for any trace of Yolo. He hadn’t seen his brother in a few days now. It wasn’t unusual for the two of them to part ways for a little while, though Yeet expected his brother back by now.
His head raised at the sound of a nearby howl. Maybe now was a bad time to heckle a wolf, with Yolo in the wind. But his search had turned up nothing and he was thirsty for a distraction, particularly a reckless one.
“Hey!” he shouted, scrambling toward the sound. “HEY, YOU! WITH THE FACE!” He was coming up fast on the (large) wolf’s backside, though Yeet felt it was safe to assume he did have a face.
Large, dark ears swiveled toward the sound of paws in the gritty sand, and then jumped upright atop his head when a voice shouted to him from not very far away. He spun around, his orange eyes wide in alarm, but fading quickly into bemusement.
Me?
he asked — he had never been addressed so directly by a fox before. He had never tried to eat them, either; they looked a bit too much like wolves for his tastes, and the smell — well, it didn't invite Dutch to put it in his mouth, that was for sure. Roll in it? Obviously. But not eat.
What do you want?
he asked, not unkindly.
The wolf whirled to face him (because he did, indeed, have a face). Golden eyes peered at him with frank curiosity as a question sprang from the canine’s tongue. Typically, wolves chased him away, seeing him as a nuisance at best and prey at worst.
But this one stood his ground, even spoke to him cordially. Yeet dug his dark paws in the gritty sand and stared openly. His mouth opened and he waited for the other shoe to drop.
When it didn’t, Yeet demanded querulously, “Why are you being nice to me? Who,” he barked, voice growing louder with each word, a paw lifting from the cold beach to form a fist he shook, “GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO SHIFT THE PARADIGM?”
It was a mean fox — or maybe they were all this way. Maybe that was part of fox culture, or maybe he smelled as bad to the fox as the fox smelled to him. Either way, he decided he didn't like a voice being raised to him, regardless of the size of the creature raising it.
I'm not being nice, I'm just not being loud,
he pointed out, a little grumpily. Is there something I can help you with?
Just to prove it, he made a little lunging feint toward the fox — but even then, his folllow-up tail wagging was automatic. Dutch didn't quite know how to be not nice.
The wolf’s retort stumped him momentarily. Never before in his life had one offered to help him in any capacity. His mouth fell ajar, prepared to make some sort of clever comeback, yet an instant later, Yeet clapped it shut.
He couldn’t help but think of Yolo. If his brother were here, this little rendezvous would be going entirely differently. Yet he wasn’t… and Yeet was genuinely getting worried…
His lips parted to ask if the wolf had seen a red fox in the area, by any chance. But before Yeet could speak, the bastard lunged for him, after all. A little squawk of indignation left him as he tried to dart out of the way, only to realize it had been more of a feint than anything.
Feeling nonplussed, Yeet squinted at the wolf from a safer distance, mistrustfully eyeing his waving tail. “Quit fucking with me,” he snapped hypocritically. “Have you seen any other foxes around here?” he added quickly, before he could think better of it.
Dutch was a bit taken aback by the demand, but settled down at the weirdo fox's request. He was not at all sure what the point of this interaction was, if they weren't gonna fuck with each other, but the diminutive creature quickly got to the point. He was missing someone, clearly, and Dutch was sorry to be of such little help.
"Not really? I don't think?" It wasn't something he really paid attention to. "None that've talked to me, anyway. Are you looking for one in particular?" He thought this might be a better place to start. Maybe he was just looking for foxes in general, which seemed a much easier thing to help with. "I'm looking for my father," he added, in case the fox was in a mood to help, as well as to be helped. "My name's Dutch, by the way."
He let out a breath when the wolf reported no such sightings. What I waste of time, Yeet thought, his eyes narrowing to little more than slits when the wolf pressed for more details and then mentioned his own search.
“Like I could give a fuck,” he retorted when, all of a sudden, he realized he was really being an asshole. “Sorry, man, I’m just on edge ‘cause he’s my bro,” he offered a little begrudgingly. “And, uh, sorry about your faja.”
He paused, wondering if he was supposed to ask what the dude looked like. But if he were to keep an eye out, how the hell would he report back to this Dutch guy? “Yeet,” he rejoined, scratching absently at one foreleg with the other. “What’s your old man look like?”