Blackfoot Forest nothing quite lasts

It’s not that he’s lost.

Briefly misplaced, yes, but not lost. He wandered for familiar landmarks and he did not find any. That state he’d been in before now hadn’t allowed him to catalogue his surroundings much.

He wasn’t much better now, but it was a start. The pain sat in his chest, but he held it close. It would stay with him, he might as well make it comfortable.

Even now, picking his way through a forest, he looked up to the high peaks above him. Maybe it would be easier to see home if he was higher up?

Large claws graze gentle grasses lightly covered in a blanket of autumn leaves. The sound of crumpling leaves underfoot acted as a poor measurement for the size of the bear as it meandered through the wood.

A large wet black nose sniffed and huffed in the scent of the air, heavy with the scent of fox. Hinting toward an underlying likelihood of prey.

Though fox nor prey was the first thing to caught Drust's eyes that day. But a young boy of white and red.

He stopped in his tracks and looked toward him through the trees. A healthy distance between them.