Horizon Ridge In between it's all messed up

Gloves of sand slid along the brown fur of his underbelly, and paws. He stepped slowly, carefully, nose to the ground. He searched and sniffed, the teasing scent of grass and soil, berries and loam. And an aging scent of mint and raspberry mixed with musk and dirt. That was what he searched for, the caches his mother had made. She and his father, two halves to the same coin. Always their scents together, always. Even now so long later, they still lingered. (They really probably didn't, but memory is a funny thing.)

Gunnar lifted steel gray eyes to the horizon, gaze taking in the broken, jagged cusp of clouds that swirled and dipped above him. He stopped a moment to watch as sea gulls wheeled and cried out to one another, their noisy, raucous sounds hurting his ears, even as far away as they were.

hope you don’t mind me stealing this

It was too loud here. The screeching of gulls, the roaring of waves smashing against the cliffs, even the wind here made more noise than normal. Mio could hear it whispering behind his back. 

A figure on the horizon; the ghost observed him silently from betwixt boulders. It seemed he was searching, for food perhaps?

He flitted closer and closer as the stranger’s nose continued to hug the ground. He paused, and Mio paused too; by now his presence must’ve been known.

And yet he stayed. Like a stray cat watching from the shadows, cherry red eyes remained fixed on the strange wolf’s every move.

Not at all

Gunnar wasn't particularly fond of the screeching feather brained gulls. They irritated and chafed. Since he'd been a child. Though he hated falcons more.
 
Silent slivers of knowing glanced along his shoulders. Fur along his ruff rose and he lifted downy head. He lifted masked face, steel grey eyes pinpointing the scrawny youth nearby.

He blinked, voice soft he spike. Hello there.

The strange man's head rose like a lion surveying its pridelands; Mio watched tensely as it swung to stare directly at him. For a split second he met the stormy gaze of the other, the next it was gone. And so was Mio.

Like a child playing peekaboo, the ghost disappeared into the shadows with a clatter of paws and rocks, but he did not go far.

He was unsure if it was curiosity that drew him back, or simply the primal need for food and companionship, but as the man's soft greeting reached his ears he felt himself calm, if only slightly. The boy padded back slowly. 

He wished to speak, but his mouth would not move. Instead, with scrawny tail tucked and ears flat he tilted his head, gazing expectantly up at the man.

Gunnar stared perplexed at where the wolf had been. It was a medium thing, so not easily hidden, but they had hidden as if a ghost they were. Even their pelt should have stuck out, but they were gone as easily as they had come.

Though the loud cacophany of rocks and paws was hard. Gunnar knew it was near this wolf, that looked sickly. He continued to stare where the youth had been, eyes tracing over the area, searching. Wondering.

The youth reappeared and stared at him with wide helpless eyes and a stirring began in Gunnar's chest and slid outward. What did this youth need and could Gunnar provide. I'm Gunnar. Can I help you with something?

The man spoke again; his gentle voice seemed empty of threat, though that did little to ease the boy's shaky breaths. Nevertheless, Mio did not run this time. 

Gunnar. A name. He knew he should reply. But what to say, and how to say it? Alas, the thought spiralled and twisted and fell, and was lost in a sea of others like a snowflake in a snowdrift before the ghost could catch it. "-help you with something?" Cherry eyes snapped back and he blinked once, twice at the stranger - no - Gunnar. 

"Um... I'm okay." His throat felt like sandpaper, the air rough as knives. The boy coughed dryly. Not the truth, but Mio did not want to burden such a kind man.

"Sorry... for earlier. I was just, um - you surprised me," he managed to add on, wincing slightly.

The youth seemed nervous and Gunnar wondered what had happened to the young thing, to make it so. However, he was not one that usually thought on the past of others, only himself. 

There was no reply to his offer of a name. So, they would stay strangers he supposed. One thing Gunnar had learned in the past, was to never take anything someone said at face value. This youth said they were fine, but they didn't look fine. Their pelage dull, the ribs slightly sunk in. But they would not seem to accept help. So it would need delivered in another way.

I tend to do that. And it's alright. I'm sorry I surprised you. Now Gunnar wrinkled his nose and looked around. 

I"m a bit hungry, would you help an old man find some food?

Grey eyes roamed his figure, and Mio could feel his skin prickle slightly as they seemed to survey him all over. It was an odd sensation, not something he was used to at this intensity. Shyly, he dropped his gaze to rest on the grizzled muzzle of the man. Gunnar seemed old - the ghost wondered how long he had been here and what he knew of this place. 

At his next words, Mio’s suspicions were confirmed. However, his ears pricked not at the old man’s age, but the mention of something to eat. He was reluctant, at first, unsure if Gunnar simply wanted a meal to arrive at his door like Mio was some doordash employee.

However, it wasn’t long before hunger won, and Mio found himself nodding slowly in reply to the old man’s apology and request. Should the meal be shared or not, the boy was desperate enough to sneak a bite. He glanced to the gulls, and back again: “Do we - um - do you want me to get one of those for you?” Mio stood, face visibly confused, wondering if there was a way he could grow wings.

Gunnar's suspicions were confirmed, the more he noticed about the youth. They were clearly hungry. Gunnar was.old, but still fairly healthy.

Gunnar looked at the gulls with distaste. They're gamey, rotten. We can gather some rabnits that way.

Gunnar being old and from around here. Knew where there were pockets of small grassland a liitle further from the beach.

He lowered his nose to the ground and began a trek to one such area.

Relief washed over him as Gunnar expressed a strong disliking for gulls. The cacophony of their screeching had faded to background noise as Mio following the footsteps of the old man towards said rabbits. At least he didn’t need wings for these.

Though bare-boned and weak, the adrenaline of the hunt dampened whatever discomfort he felt for the time being, and he sped up - only a little - to trot almost side by side with Gunnar.

The grass seemed to be a little way off - “I hate those birds too,” he began softly, “they make my brain feel noisy.” With the kind man by his side, he felt less afraid.

Soon, the duo reached the grasslands and Mio settled into a focused silence as he scouted for trails.

Gunnar shot a dirty look to the gulls again, and continued onward. His thoughts drifting to the Falcons that had attacked his siblings, and his mother all those years ago. The few that had attacked him. Gulls were crazy and afraid of nothing.

Gunnar turned his head to study the youth. A small smile on his maw. They are definitely loud things. And mean. Cruel too. I hate them.

Gunnar saw the youth settle and he spoke, hushed. I'll chase them to you and you catch them deal? I can't catch them anymore.

Gunnar slid into the tall grass, nose to the ground. He was not as fast as he had been, but he could chase as long as the youth could catch them.