The morning has the potential to be sultry the air heavy with the moisture of the recent rainstorm that recently ended, the thin wisp of dark grey clouds burning off as the morning progresses; the heat is kept at bay by the wind that whips through the longer tendrils of fur at Imaran’s nape. The moor offers little shelter from the golden sun as it burns in the sky, ever present but the breeze is nice. There are a few small copses of trees dotted throughout the moor and the occasional tree fallen and uprooted, gnarled and in some cases broken roots stand out like spikes. Imaran navigates around them. For the fallen trees that look big enough to hold his weight he jumps up and balances, standing like a conqueror as candescent jack-o-lantern gaze scans the expanse of moor grateful for the open lands. These moments do not last long and soon he is back upon the colorful ground trudging through it and trampling brightly colored flowers under foot as he drudged forward no real destination in mind.

Imaran’s ears flicker atop his skull as he hears Zane call after him. He does not halt in his steps but he does slow them so his brother can catch up. Jack-o-lantern gaze slides to his brother as Zane catches up to him with ease. It lingers on the tip of his tongue to tease Zane if he’d caught the scent of a hot chick and if he was sure he didn’t want to pursue her but Imaran bit it back. Just in case there might have been truth to the potential tease that would never come to the light of the day. The last thing he wants is to be separated from Zane in the Wilds. He has listened to the stories told to him by their mother and father with eagerness, with the spark of adventure in his gaze but there is trepidation in his heart, a caution at the unknown. Are these Wilds the same that their parents left behind? Near two years have passed and Imaran is not sure what the Ostrega pair will be greeted with. Imaran shot his brother a look when he mentions he thought he scented a deer — and hated the relief he felt that it was not a girl’s scent that had tickled Zane’s curiosity because he is selfish and wants to stick as close to Zane as he can because he is the only familiar thing in these Wilds — and rolls his eyes. “Sure we could.” He mock agrees, tone dripping with sarcasm. Imaran greatly doubts they could pull off taking down a deer. Maybe a goat but a deer? That seemed quite a stretch but if nothing else (and as annoying as Imaran finds it at times) Zane’s assuredness at their skills is flattering.