Totoka River a time to be born and a time to die

No sooner than the man arrived home, did he leave again. The news of @Aria’s departure had been one of the first things to hit his ears [and nose] and Komodo was unsettled with how often he thought of her absence in so little time. The brute didn’t really know what the delicate, snow white fae was to him — he didn’t really want to think about it too much, or to complicate things — but apparently, as his gut reaction told him, she was something.

He wanted her back.

Figuring his absence would not disturb the stormborn wolves too much [he had only just made his reintroduction, after all], the angakkuq moved out. Komodo crossed the sandbar at low tide, for he was not fond of dampening the fawnskin pouch that hung ‘round his neck by braving the channel, then found the river and followed its arrowlike shores. This path had been explored once more and he found it to be nothing special — but soon, with the cooling of temperatures, it was likely the water would freeze over and trap the life beneath. The scene would easily transition into that of deep winter: frozen, dark, unmoving. Then, he would miss the rushing of these waters.

With that thought heavy on his mind, Komodo continued on his slow moving trek.

On he sauntered, one paw in front of the other other, joints spacious and frame held loose. Komodo’s eyes lingered heavily on the loamy terrain just before him, bobbing along with the subtle jounce of his crown. Long periods of Komodo’s life had been spent doing this very thing — walking, moving, with no destination in particular. He stopped wherever and whenever he found work, or something that proved to be more distracting, but for the rest of his time he drifted and that’s just the way it was. It was something of a meditative action, as he was the earthstalker after all, and maintaining his nomadic lifestyle meant he had to make something productive out of nothing. So the brute walked, withdrawn and at the same time finding oneness with the cosmos around him. Might as well use this time to commune.

Komodo did not know how long he moved in this manner, but before long, he was interrupted.

The medicine man turned his head, ears fluttering against the sound of his own name. Blinking against the sight of Constantine, Komodo to one jaunty step forward, then another. He was surprised, certainly, to see the man here; a man whom he did not know very well. Did not wish to know very well. The earthstalker had never harbored a liking for the man and somehow always felt unsettled in his presence. The news of Constantine’s attrition was not surprising — but now Komodo could see that the dark male he had left, but he hadn’t gone far.

It was a suspicious thing.

He spoke with a particular flatness. “You left.” he gruffed, leaving the explanation for Constantine to fill in.

Komodo rolled his shoulders up and down his back, trying to shake some of the aggravation he inexplicably felt when looking in the face of the ashen boy. Komodo’s prompt went largely ignored, but the male felt secure in that his comment had struck a nerve. The earthstalker was a wander, but he was not the type of man to leave an entire group of wolves in a lurch — but Constantine might have been that type of wolf.

“Ah’m lookin’ fer someone,” he burred in a roughhewn tone, certain that Constantine knew who he was looking for — and, perhaps, knew where she was. It was possible that this was the reason for Komodo’s agitation; for Constantine’s reappearance hinted that Aria’s abandonment had not been so unintentional.