Hoshor Plains new beginnings

the morning is dark, just before dawn when arktos slips from the den he shares with his wife. there is a peaceful sort of quiet to the plains in the still of night and early morning when the giant beasts they shared them with slumbered.

a call of an owl somewhere in the distance accompanied by the chirrup of crickets are an outside orchestra to his footfalls.

he checks on the herds first: keeping quiet but not low as to both not disrupt their slumber nor to hide from them if one did happen to be awake or awaken.

from there, he swings towards the borders; content to get a patrol in while the air was still cool.

As elusive as Fjall could be, he seemed intent on returning to the plainsfield every now and again to reaffirm his presence there. Most of his time was spent westward, searching for signs of Ariadne (with no earthly clue that she had in fact returned many moons ago and then perished not so long ago) and speaking to the Wild Wind.

When he returned this time, more time than usual had passed, and the young wolf was slightly worse for wear. He was weary-eyed and looked disheveled, as if he had slept wrong, but the only thing that was obvious in the pre-dawn lowlight was that he was moving rather sluggishly.

Arktos? he made slowly for the leader, though not by choice. I am home.

arktos is no longer perturbed by the comings and goings of fjall — and if there is a worry that one excursion might take the boy from yellowstone for good, he assures himself that it was meant to be ( not that, mind, he believes in things such as destiny ).

today, there lay a dull ache behind his right eye; made worse by the cheerful glare of the sun with no cloud in sight to obscure it.

fjall, greets the wrangler, lifting himself to his paws to greet the younger man. it is good to see you.

Closing the distance, Fjall was quick to notice an unusual squint in one of Arktos' eye, as if he was experiencing some sort of mild discomfort himself. He wondered if the illness that'd kept him away had affected Yellowstone, and he felt his skin warm at the thought of the man being pleased to see him. I feel the same. I did not mean to be away for so long.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the welcome musk of bison. Is everything alright?

arktos is not a man who is good with small conversations or, truthfully being sociable much at all. it was hard when he had the personality of a brick bull. the dull ache behind his eye makes him wonder if he always had this personality or if it was acquired since ground zero. he didn't spend time thinking about who he was before ( what was the sense in it? ) but there were some instances in which it came to the forefront of his mind.

apparently, a dull headache was one of times.

mhm, it wasn't the entire truth, but arktos isn't good at talking about his feelings, either. just a little headache, s'all.

a pause is given.

you hungry?

Unlike his great brick of an Alpha, Fjall was made of goose down and fawnskin. He was as soft as they came on the matter of emotions, and he was a natural empath. This made it easier for him to notice when Arktos was keeping something back — as he seemed to do.

I cannot recall a time I was not hungry, Fjall chuckled, easing into his typically good-natured mood. Though still feeling limp-limbed, he didn't want to seem weak in front of Arktos. Are we hunting? he asked.

Then after, you can tell me what is giving you that pained look on your face.

while arktos would've said yes to a hunt any other time, there was a pulsation of pain from the headache point at even the thought of exerting himself physically beyond the norm. not today, the warbear says, trying to keep the harsh breath of discomfort soft.

trying to hide it.

there's a batch of dried, salted meats that i finished a couple days ago, if that works?

as i said, a headache. of past memories thought erased trying to break free? or something more sinister? arktos wished he knew.