Cerulean Cape transcendentalism

There was a heavy mist collecting near the tops of the trees. It wasn't so far-off from being a proper cloud, but it was thin and pale like cobwebs stretched too thin. There was no way for him to really see the rain that was cascading in the middle of the ocean, but the earthen boy could tell that there was darkness on the horizon. The air around him felt almost electric. There certainly would be a storm tonight and Mink, ever the storm-chaser, wasn't sure if he was safe to linger on this spit of land or if maybe he should retreat. He was not so bold as to think himself immune to incliment weather, or the potential damage of thunder and lightning; so after some thought he began to trace a route along the peninsula, drinking in breaths of the heavy mist, the pungent evergreen, the sharp-tasting and familiar sea. Every so often the boy would turn to observe the sky and wonder, 'grandmother, are you seeing this?'

Weetzie was not a risk-taker, and it didn’t take much to scare him, and it took even less to make him worry, but when it came to the world around him, sometimes his curiosity overpowered his worry. He found storms particularly interesting in spite of knowing how dangerous they could be. Of course they were sometimes inconvenient, like the one that had recently caused him to lose track of his sister, but even then, he was fascinated by them.

He had traveled out of his way because he sensed a storm approaching from out on the ocean, and not really having much else to do, he decided to check it out. He wasn’t a storm-chaser by any means, but he liked to stop and observe them every now and then in spite of concerns about torrential rains, heavy winds, lightning, and even tornadoes. It was also a diversion from his apprehension about possibly joining a pack.

Back home, he knew all the safe places to take shelter while observing storms, but here, he was unfamiliar with the terrain and hoped he could find a safe place. He walked along the coast, frequently stopping to look towards the land for a suitable shelter, perhaps a cave or even a dense cluster of trees. He approached the peninsula, but he hesitated, unsure about going out there with a storm approaching. He failed to notice the wolf already out there and heading in his direction.

Mink often thought of his grandmother. It was hard at first, but her death would strengthen him - this was something she had pressed in to him during those final days. Yuma was a storm unto herself, indomitable, powerful, sweeping in unexpectedly sometimes, and seeing that power slowly fading from her was a torturous experience for the boy. It felt as if she were with him now; the ominous feeling in the air, that energy, was like her spirit watching over him. Mink was distracted - finding himself stalled more often than not, obsessed with watching those clouds, until he tripped in his stride and nearly bailed in to a similarly distracted stranger.

"Oh - !" he exclaimed as he pivoted and caught his balance, tail raised more out of surprise than anything. He was puffed up a bit, although his dense coat barely shifted. "um, sorry," murmured the boy as he rounded about the stranger, hoping he had not done harm.

"Mink!" his grandmother would've called - "don't slouch! Be proud! You are a child of the wind and should not be so meek!"
Alas, he could not help it.

Something attacked Weetzie from out of nowhere! He crouched down and took a few steps backwards with his ears flat, hackles raised, and tail puffed up. He bared his teeth as he searched frantically for an escape route from the large, scruffy grizzly bear that loomed before him.

After a few seconds, he realized that the grizzly bear was in fact a wolf, and that the wolf had not attacked him but merely bumped into him. He mentally scolded himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. He relaxed his posture, once again standing normally and letting his fur settle. He let his tail hang behind him and raised his ears slightly. Immediately after the wolf apologized, he responded in his characteristic flat, monotone voice, “No harm done. I apologize as well, I should have been more attentive to my surroundings.”

He considered himself fortunate that the wolf was not hostile, but he was still uneasy about the thought of socializing with another stranger. He wasn’t sure what was considered polite, but he thought he should inquire about the wolf’s well-being. He fidgeted slightly as he asked, “Are you unharmed as well?”

I'm fine, the wanderer confirmed, although took a second afterwards to test his weight on his limbs, glance across his body, fluff his tail - checking himself out just in case. It hadn't been much of a blow. There was a moment where Mink was stuck in a thoughtful bubble while he flexed and pranced about, but that soon ended, and he opened his mouth as if to ask something - or merely carry the conversation despite being so terribly introverted - and there was a rumble out to sea.

His ears pivoted, and he was distracted momentarily by the distant sound. Sounds like its getting bad out there, but the storm (if that was a storm, and not merely his grandmother's spirit trying to tear the gods a new hole in the afterlife) was still hours away. They would be safe for some time still, lest the winds changed. Mink quietly let his attention drift up to the sky and linger there, where he tried to spy upon the bits of gray and blue beyond the trees.

Weetzie stood in silence and waited as the stranger checked himself out and said he was okay. He avoided eye contact but watched him carefully uncertain about what he would do. “That is good,” he said without feeling just before the thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Indeed,” he said in response to the wolf’s comment about the storm sounding bad. He gazed into the sky as well, looking in the same direction that the wolf was looking. That gave him something to focus on that didn’t make him uncomfortable. “I believe it will be a strong storm. I was seeking shelter when our paths crossed, more specifically, a safe place from which to observe the storm.” He wasn’t actually worried about shelter just yet, as the storm was still some distance away, but he would’ve preferred to find something sooner rather than later, before it he got to the point of worrying. What he really didn’t like was his sister’s tendency to ‘wing it’.

A safe space? So this was another storm-chaser! 'Grandmother, I am not alone,' Mink thought with a glance to the rumbling sky.

I do not know this area well, the boy admitted next, and gave a hasty look around for clues before settling a cautious gaze upon the stranger once more - But the coast will be safe for hours yet. I was going to head inland soon, find some higher ground. You are welcome to join me. Mink's voice was solemn but held some hope to it as well; he had been alone for many weeks since his grandmother's passing and it would be good to have company, even in the form of this odd stranger with sharp-features and considerably dulled charm. He would not judge - this was not his home, these were not his people - and so Mink would go with the flow, as Yuma would often demand.

Weetzie didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t help thinking that maybe his sister was right, that wolves around here were more accepting than the ones where he had come from. At home with his parents, he had grown used to being an outcast, but he seemed to be finding more acceptance here.

He hardly had to think at all before giving his answer. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he strongly desired the company of others, and he also knew that if he were going to join a pack, he would have to get used to socializing anyway. “Agreed,” he said flatly. “I must confess I do not know the area well either, but I would be pleased to take you up on your offer to join you.” He cocked his head sideways and with a self-conscious twitch of his tail, he added, “Although you do not appear to be coming apart.” He was attempting to make a joke, but both his voice and his expression remained flat.

He did not know what to make of the stranger's comment - some sort of effort to be clever, maybe? Or perhaps there was something lost in translation? Mink felt as if he missed a social cue and awkwardly smiled nonetheless, nodding, and casting his head away from the gray boy's view as if the path was suddenly quite interesting. 

If neither knew the area well, they would learn together. It would be good to have company again - even someone as dry-humored as this, who reminded Mink of his uncle Heron quite painfully. The same long-featured phenotype, the same serious nature (or seemingly so). I will be happy to have you along, sir.

What may I call you? If he was to travel with this man, he may as well be friendly about it. Mink hadn't thought further ahead than this precise moment in the conversation either - not until now - and he wondered if the naming conventions in this neck of the woods was any different from home. 

When the wolf smiled at Weetzie’s rather sad attempt at a joke, Weetzie returned an equally awkward smile of his own. He wasn’t sure if the wolf was amused or just being polite, but he suspected it was the latter. Still, he remained friendly, and that alone gave Weetzie some satisfaction as he had never been good at making friends. Until recently, his only friends were his sister’s friends. He didn’t have any complaints about any of Witch’s friends, but he wanted to make friends on his own, even if it was only to make his sister happy.

“I am Weetzie, and I am pleased to meet you.” It was genuine even if his voice didn’t show it. “And your name?” He looked at the path in the same direction the other was looked. As far as finding a shelter suitable for both of them, he hoped the other wolf, who was clearly older than he, would take the lead, as he was doing well to socialize at all.

Mink did not know what to expect, but the name that was given didn't strike him as all that strange after all. As he led the way towards safer ground to witness the storm, he found himself content to know that the world outside of his little bubble was not as alien as he initially believed. With a small twitch of his tail and a much more relaxed demeanor taking hold, he said, Mink, which was not an impressive name, but in time he hoped to change that. Grandmother Yuma would have wanted him to become something - to make something of himself - so that little name would eventually be bigger than the wind. In good spirits, the boy added another question: If this is unfamiliar to you, then from where do you come?

Weetzie was relieved that the other wolf was taking the lead. Although he was accustomed to doing his own thing, he wasn’t ready for the burden of thinking for others. Perhaps when he is older, he will be more inclined to take the lead, but in the meantime, he would gladly let others bear that burden. Of course, he would probably still have his own opinions to share whether they were wanted or not.

“I am pleased to make your aquaintance,” he said as he followed after him. “I came here from some distance up the coast. I actually came here in search of my sister, as she has a tendency to run off. I promised Mother I would find her and look after her.” He wouldn’t admit it, but he had been much happier since he had recently found her again. He hoped she wouldn’t run off again, especially since she had already agreed to join a pack. Hopefully, pack life would provide a stabilizing influence. "May I ask where you are from?" he asked.

As they went, Weetzie explained himself. His tale was short and to the point, but Mink found it interesting all the same. His mention of a mother made him mentally pause, as any mention of parents often did, and he was caught by surprise by the reversal of the conversation. Mink returned to the present - to Weetzie, rather than the things he'd left behind - and tried to bumble his way through an explanation of his own: I'm from an island actually. It's further north from here. I um... I grew up with very few kids my age around, but I had grandmother, which was alright. He was reminded of her every day in some manner, but never around company and never in this blatant manner. Mink had not spoken of her since the passing, and found his words failed as he went.

Weetzie cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. He could hide his emotions well, but his curiosity was more evident. “Then, your grandmother raised you?” he asked. Perhaps it was not uncommon among wolves, but he had never really thought about social or family structures outside of his own little world. In his mind, there was himself, his sister, and his father and mother, and the occasional visit with his maternal grandparents.

“I have never actually spent much time with my own grandparents,” he admitted. It was something he regretted, but his tone remained flat as he continued to speak. “I have never met Father’s parents, as he actually left his pack to be with Mother. I suspect the pack did not approve of him mating with a coyote. My family visited with Mother’s parents from time to time, but I usually preferred to observe elk herds or examine the clouds or the stars rather than socialize with them. Perhaps that was a bad decision on my part.” His tone softened slightly as he added, “I expect I will never be able to see them again.” He couldn’t help thinking that if he had known that he, or rather his sister, would run so far, he would have chosen to spend more time with his grandparents when he’d had the chance.