the snow forces him to take shelter into the nearest territory; the forest he currently weaves through cloaked in deep shadows and painted in a monochrome grey that mimicked the sky outside.
still, the thickly packed trees offer some respite from the heavy snowfall and he is grateful for it all the same. as raptor makes his way through the territory he tries to discern if this place held any sort of familiarity in the way that places told by others sometimes held.
arturo — when he wasn't taken by the witchdoctor — had spoke often of these lands. nevertheless, raptor's focus shifts back to his chosen path, tucking those thoughts aside; for now.
Days had gone by since he'd last spoken to anyone, so when he called out Hey,
his voice was sheepish and rough with disuse. His eyes ghosted over the stranger, whose dark coat was flecked with snowflakes in mid-melt.
Well,
he began, before being interrupted by a clump of snow that finally fell off of a drooping branch, right on top of Abraham's head. There was a sharp gasp ("Pah!"), a stuttering series of blinks. Such commotion on such a narrow face.
Where— where are you going?
The young man sat, the brightness of his face unmarred by the melting snow that slid slowly down his neck.
the coywolf drawls in a breath, footfalls ceasing at the sheepish and rough voice that reaches out to him. he turns to face the other creature, just in time to see a chunk of snow plop onto his head from a low hanging, heavy laden with snow branch. the laugh that tore itself from raptor's throat was involuntary but he even so he offers no apology. doesn't even have the decency to look sheepish about it, either.
what's it to you, unfortunate stranger?
the fearghal inquires, accent a lilting brummie like his father's: smoky and raspy. despite the words that could've been barbed there is a undeniable amount of amusement in them instead.
Just thought in a winter like this, it'd be nice to have some help,
he said, aware of how much of a non-answer it was. Then, as if feeling guilty for his vagueness: But the truth is, I'm just curious.
He sized the stranger up, whose face, at least, reminded Abraham of his father - the resemblance sent a pang of emotion through him, emotion he had no time to parse. Just a little over a month ago, he had been taking care of his mom, been having to see things that no son should ever have to deal with.
After mom had passed, God remained evasive to him; he could only ever glimpse grace in its wake, its after-image.
I'm looking for my dad. It's a long shot, but have you seen a wolfdog, ears like mine, real thin with yellow eyes?
You can't miss him, he wanted to add, but was afraid of how his voice might've sounded like if he did.
a soft tilt of his head, considering the stranger's words. amiable and overly friendly, in raptor's opinion. that was a lot of trust to instill within someone you didn't know: didn't even know the name of. perhaps raptor was a bit more distrustful by nature, or perhaps it was a learned trait.
i don't know.
raptor answers honestly. he didn't know where, exactly, this path would lead him: or where he hoped it would. only banking on the faith that it would become clear to him in time. it had worked well enough for his father; at least for a bit.
i haven't,
raptor admits. but then again i wasn't lookin' for anyone.
He'll be leaving unless stopped ^^
So the stranger was reticent. That was alright; Abe was accustomed to all sorts of silence.
For some reason he was struck by the urge to reassure him, to issue a firm
it's okay, but he had no idea of what kind of approval he had intended to show, and was afraid of coming across as condescending.
He wanted the dark and intense man to like him. On some deeper level he sought approval from everyone he met.
Thanks. It was a long shot - I'll see you around then,
he said, this time quieter.
And then, after a few steps had separated them,
May God bless you.