Sunlight dashed through lofted clouds and dappled itself in large patches along the stone and twisted trees. A hawk shrieked from overhead and took flight, casting its shadow onto the earth below and then vanishing.
The warrior had made good pace. Even the rain had not dampened his keen nose and the scent of the boy that carried him across an expanse of terrain.
Foxfur had not rested for long. The masked wolf did not wish to see his opportunity flee. The rangy male trotted between the stone crags with a shrewd eye and hurried on.
Antares went nowhere in any hurry, and chose to peruse the landscapes--for interests, and as ever prey he could hope to catch. His routes these days often zigged and zagged, winding around while he sought to expend his energy, and then some.
For today, the summer's heat hung humid and heavy, doing motivation few favors especially for someone as dark as he. The scout kept his head low as he jogged slow, at least until a hawk's cry pulled at his ears--drawing a glance skyward. Ultimately, it was likely none of his business, so he continued on soon enough, but slower this time, and panting over a lolling tongue; at least for now. He could pick up the pace later.
Working his way along and turning a bend, he then spied motion ahead, tan-shaded against the stone, aiming roughly his way. Antares gave his own pause, considering that if he continued, they might intersect given the other's cruising speed. At least this way he could observe what appeared to be another coywolf, or coyote even, potentially. He didn't particularly trust their sort, as a rule, but as a fellow rogue himself, he had little to be guarded about so he watched eerily for more from his spot.
The fragrance of wolf was powerful in those parts. Without any real knowledge, the warrior would have guessed that there were a variety of claims and more than a few wanderers. Their aroma had filled his snout with every step that carried him in pursuit of the princeling.
Foxfur paused, drawing his nose along the trail of one who had passed through that area. The fragrance was diminished to the point that the tracker could not tell if it belonged to the runaway boy or not.
Another scent arrived on the breath of the wind. Foxfur’s brown eyes searched the immediate area. The fur along his neck and shoulders rose with interest, though his tail remained stiff. The warrior did not seem to have patience for hidden entities.
Who goes there?
Though he kept his head low, he stepped forward slowly to show himself--and hopefully that he meant no harm. His posture was crafted to look neutral, maybe relaxed, to counterbalance the sharp look he couldn't shake fully. Just me,
he said quietly, giving half a shake of his furs. I'm Antares,
he went ahead and offered to further sign his attempt at.. friendly-adjacent. He smelled like the wilds and few other wolves, more than anything, likely still like the swamps west of here.
Passing through?
he asked. Unlike the last coywolf he had found, he was certain he had no past history with this one, especially after chancing a good, proper look at them.
Darkness stepped through the brush and revealed a stranger of handsome stature. The warrior lowered his head slightly, reviewing the dark male’s figure with a curious eye.
At the introduction, Foxfur nodded softly. This wolf was called Antares and it appeared as though he was no harm to the traveler. This was a sweet relief. After having discussed the possibility of a hostile pack in the territories that surrounded his hunt, Foxfur had wondered if he would run into an aggressive pack member.
Antares, I am called Foxfur. I greet you,
the warrior offered carefully, even respectfully. He was still a foreigner to their land.
Not passing through, not exactly. I’m searching for a member of our clan who has run away from home. He is a dark figure, goes by the name Crowfeather.
At this, Foxfur set his gaze upon the shadow and wondered if he had seen the runaway prince.
In a steady, measured gesture, Antares dipped his snout. I greet you rang as more familiar than he had come anticipating of the sandy-hue stranger. The rest was easy enough to hold onto though, then it even peaked in a new note of interest. So there was a search, even, for a runaway. Antares took only a half-second to consider it.
Not anyone I've crossed,
he shared as he shook his head. Not recently, or ever. Not by that name. He supposed not by that description, either. Unless one considered Charles' fur dark enough to fall under that arch, which he did not. I've just come from a bit west of here, south a little too. No such anyone,
the scout went on to share. Not a whole lot of anything on my road so far anyway,
he added.
How fresh is the trail?
he asked, in a very general sense that left Foxfur to decide what he shared, or didn't. With a runaway type of situation, hard telling.
There was something to be appreciated in the way that the dark stranger responded, providing any details that might have been relevant in Foxfur’s search. The warrior took the details and stored them in his mind.
Antares had stated that he’d ventured to the south and the west of where they were. Crowfeather was not seen in either of those territories. A more easily dissuaded man might have turn and returned home, counting the dark runaway as a lost cause. Foxfur merely had been given areas that would be safe from his scouring gaze.
Probably a week. Perhaps a few days more,
the warrior answered. His voice was weary but there would be no hiding the gratefulness that mingled there.
In that moment, Foxfur found it curious that a capable man would be on his own, unpledged. The fragrances that clung to Antares’ coat were not those of a pack dweller. You are a lone warrior? Unpledged to a clan?
The corners of his lips twitched subtly with a slow, understanding nod. A week or so. Hm,
he rumbled low, considering such a span. I do wish I had more insight to offer,
the dark Ostrega added. It didn't sound like an entirely lost cause, but not a very inspiring one at this rate--at least from his outsider's point of view, only newly exposed to this story of a runaway and the one who sought them.
As a question turned back to him, he first replied in a slow nod. A lone warrior, indeed. Masterless, and his allegiance distant to those of Moonglow who remained. Yes. My clan is no longer.
He fought off a pinch to his brow, the wound fresh still, this many moons since the star. I travel with another, of similar persuasion,
he added for a vague piece insight into himself. Together with the icy-eyed Archer he shadowed, though at times, their roles reversed--hard to tell where one began lately, but he preferred not to question it; fates had landed them beside one another for some type of reason, and he had companionship there within. They were both separated from their clans, aimless, and both had similar enough interests. Where will you go from here?
he asked Foxfur, sure that the search would continue.
A warrior duo seemed safer than a man traveling alone, but Foxfur could not comment on the life choices of another man. There was an air of kinship that he felt with the dark Antares. Even though the Starsea still thrived with many members, the faraway warrior had not felt it was his clan for some time.
I think I may go north and then east a ways,
Foxfur answered the male with a solemn nod. It was his best course of action when the trail of the princeling was so faint.
What of you, Antares? Where will you lend your fangs?
The russet-masked warrior glanced toward the dark shape. The intense lapis of the other man’s eyes was something to marvel at. Like a navy sky waiting to be painted in stars.
He aimed to envision that horizon Foxfur spoke on, at least as far off as he could, and decided he couldn't fault the choice any. Maybe it would pass him by Moonglow, who might know something of the one he sought. They had scouts, surely. He had not seen his aunt in some time, so couldn't say for sure what Kukutux reigned over these days.
But that aside, given this time of year, he had no real stretches of the Teekon that he knew about to advise travelers against--besides the most obvious ones, the places where no one should want to go, but that went without saying. As for his own route to come, he rightfully could not say for sure where he might see himself. His fangs were for only his own selfish gain these days, and they felt rusted over, disused even. But even that thought spurred some distant homesickness for what he couldn't return to. Don't know yet,
he replied. I think I'll eventually head back towards the coast. Maybe north from there, but nothing's certain.
Meaning he had not made up his mind that far, and did it matter anymore? He could go on whatever whim he tossed if he really wanted.
With that there, he dipped his muzzle and started to make like he was ready to be on his way. He was content to keep moving, and let their paths be a brief cross. I won't keep you any longer,
the Ostrega said, gesturing a flick of his snout towards the direction Foxfur said he would seek. Good luck,
and safe travels on the beginning of his farewell.
The warrior bowed his head respectfully at Antares’ answer. The dark wolf seemed to be a man who had a great deal of skill beneath his exterior, but Foxfur had noted the heavy words he had offered. Whatever had taken place in the man’s past, Foxfur could only hope he had escaped it.
With a full bow of his torso, the warrior made sure to bid Antares farewell. It was uncertain whether they would see each other again. That was the way of some meetings, Foxfur thought to himself. So, he bid the dark wolf good fortunes and aimed his snout for the north. Foxfur did not stop his journey again until deep into the night.