He walked.

A mask of utter isolation covered his facial features. He felt nothing, completely de-attached from life as he knew it as he walked beyond the borders of Redhawk Caldera to nowhere and had little plans of a return. He didn't even stop to think about it. Peregrine was assumed dead, for all he knew, so what did he have left? Those rotten Firewhatevers probably hated him, that pesky lady kept asking him about his problems, Lagan was an incapable idiot and Eljay was just crazy. The rest were okay, but he knew he had not grown on them like he had to Peregrine. Peregrine had come to be the closest thing he knew to a father, and yet, he was probably dead too. So, he moved on. 

Before long, he had again, gone where he had not gone before. He had not done such a thing since the last time, but now he knew the dangers of roaming alone. He was utterly defenseless, and he had not grown out of the willowy form inherited from his mother. To a stranger, he was either breakfast or an opportunity and he wished to be neither. Yet, past experiences kept him alert as he roamed on, using not only his eyes but his developing sense of smell to navigate himself through the woods. However, his mind was kept blank and it reflected onto his features. He had learned that any sign of affection was a trap, for fate seemed to always wait until he was happy to swallow his dreams up whole. Jackrabbit would not give fate the satisfaction. 

And yet, he struggled not to cry.

He had not been expecting anyone to approach him in his blank features and unapproachable scowl. The boy had not wanted to be found, for all the times he had, it had turned to ashes and smoke, hence the fact he walked around looking like all his hopes and dreams had been crushed.. which was partially true. Yet, someone dared to confront him, and in a similar manner Peregrine had done. The thought burned a hole in his chest and he bit his lip. He could not break, not again. Minutes seemed to pass by until he remembered the voice calling out to him, questioning him of his motives. He glanced in the supposed direction of the other, and flickered back. A male, one that reeked of power. The boy had been around too many Alpha's to mistake the presence of one. "Huh?" Jackrabbit blinked into focus, trying to recall what the subject matter had been. Once it clicked, his offered only a blatant reply. "I dunno," In truth, the boy had little idea what he was going, nor where he was going. He had simply walked on, figuring his time in Redhawk Caldera was over with the death of Peregrine. He had not really belonged, even the boy could see despite the assurances he would fit right in. Jackrabbit thought of Fox, who he knew would maybe miss him, though the Fireshits would be rejoicing at his absence. Good for them, he supposed; uncharacteristically for he could not bring himself to care. He did not care that the evil foster siblings had won and he did not care that he had abandoned them. The former boy king had bowed away, and refused to return.

"Away," He simply stated, and continued to walk. Jackrabbit would not be getting attached ever again, for everywhere he roamed he brought turmoil. The death of his father did not pain him nor would it ever, for he would never know of FitzDutiful other than his real father's friend. The death of his Mother served as a cruel reminder never to trust and never return to Silvertip Mountian again. The death of his brother was a pitied memory, one that begun to waver from his conscious to the brink of forget. But, the death of Peregrine was one he would not slip away, one that was impossible to forget and one that he would forever be altered by. Jackrabbit should have seen it coming, his emotional demise was inevitable.

To an internal dismay, the larger male continued to follow the boy, while Jackrabbit himself was unaware of the close proximity he was to that very man's borders. Had he, he would have gone in the opposite direction, unsure he ever wanted to associate himself with a pack ever again. Pack's were all family and obligations and disappointment. And better yet, he was instantly reminded of that pesky viking lady who found it her business to ask about his, when The Question arose. 

What happened?

The boy very verbal groaned. What was it with people and concerning themselves with him and his own? Was his body language not enough to tell them to back the feck off? Did he have to spit and shout to get them to leave him alone? The boy simply ignored the question, opting to not waste his time recounting his bitter sob story that was his life to a random, spotted stranger. 

Yet, the man continued to question him, with each word arising some of the familiar annoyance he had carried with him all his life. "I'm not stupid," The boy scowled, thoroughly unamused with the other's accusations. It wasn't his fault Peregrine had to up and get murdered, otherwise his travel plans would have flowed much more smoothly. "My father died," He paused. "Again," Peregrine, Fitz.. how many parents did he have to go through before none would take him in at all? Perhaps he would live alone, a hermit or a nomad, both options were applicable to his current situation. 

"So you should leave me alone, unless you wanna die too," He added as an after thought, deeming it a good time to give the other the heads up for Jack was sure that this one to would face a sticky end in no time if he hung around any longer. With that, the boy returned his narrowed optics to the journey ahead. "i'm a curse," He muttered, his feet falling heavilier as he did so. It had been true since birth, everyone seemed to just die, unaturally when he was around. June, Solemn, Fitz, Zaria, Peregrine. All dead. 

The man had known loss, too. It was an odd feeling, knowing that someone else knew his pain yet failed to comfort, not out of the awkward situation it would create but that of, the boy needed no sympathy from a stranger. At least Charon was smart enough to keep to himself the consolidation he could technically offer, the boy had no wish for it. He simply nodded complacently, it did suck. It sucked really, really bad. 

Yet, as the feeling of budding remorse came, it went. 
“I am chosen for greatness,”​ 

The boy resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it was a line that almost every self proclaimed big-shot tended to declare. Jackrabbit looked to the man, looking to him with a relatively hidden an are-you-serious? look; Charon was clearly very serious. It took a minute for the boy to really back off the idea that Charon, a no-shit type of guy had really just called himself chosen for greatness. The guy really didn't look like the kind to believe in prophecies or that kind of hippie wippy stuff, yet, looks (no matter how intimidating) could really be misleading. Well, that's what you think, sniggering silently in his head while remaining stoic on the forefront. 

The boy himself had thought himself Great once too, and yet here he was, running away from his problems once more. Yet, he did not remark on the misconception that Charon seemed to hold on to; the man could figure it out for himself, that he was just like everyone else, simply living. There was no ability to accell beyond the mootpoint of their existence, they simply came, did what they did, and died; the boy had come to realize. There was nothing out there or within that would ever bring their species to what lay beyond the prime instinct to survive. Greatness was something unfathomable to their kind, and unreachable even by the most victorious or the most decorated. None were Great, they simply did what they did that called for the common misleading idea that someone was greater in life than another; that was called the hierarchy system. 

Even more, he detested the idea of feeling cared for once more, and even the idea that the man believed he did not hold the ability to ditch his problems where they slept, and run for the hills. “It does if you run fast enough,” Eyes peered once more away from the man, as if the statement was not a reply but a declaration to himself. He would need to run fast, and as far away as he could. Peregrine was dead, and the longer he swayed in limbo between Redhawk and the rest of his life, he would be suspended between two eras; unable to move on. He could not simply stand still as the ever evolving world moved around him, Perry, he knew, wouldn't want that.