Lost Creek Hollow walkerworld 2.0

He could’ve cried when he went to find @Soto and found his mother instead. Actually, he did cry. Bushtit gently punched Towhee’s shoulder, then tucked his face against her neck. The tears just sort of leaked out of him as he clutched at her in abject relief.

Once he recovered somewhat, he sniffed and sat back to look at her. She looked so old, especially compared to Towhee Jr. It frightened him a little, though Bushtit hid his fear. It helped when she informed him she wouldn’t be going much of anywhere for a little while; her leg was long overdue for some rest.

You’re staying here? he asked, incredulous but happy—and distracted—by this news. I mean, we’re staying here, Bushtit immediately amended, only to suck in a breath when his mom touched his leg and shook her head.

“I know how much you like traveling… and want to be independent. Don’t let me hold you back, kiddo. It’s a waste of all that youthful energy. Just come visit whenever you c—whenever you want,” Towhee told him. Then, before he could get a word in edgewise, she added, “While we’re on the subject, you said you ran into Jr and her dude? Can you do me a gigantic favor and send them my regrets? Tell them I’ll visit them when I can.”

By the guarded look in her eye, Bushtit could tell Towhee didn’t know when that would be. But he didn’t press her for a timeline. He merely nodded, then threw his forelegs around her neck and held onto her for a little while (read: most of an entire day).

First thing the following morning, he set out to pass the message to @Towhee Jr and @Tvar. After apologizing for causing a stir, the young man then decided to take Towhee’s words to heart. Safe in the knowledge of where to find her whenever he wanted, Bushtit moved away from the valley and began drifting into the unknown.

further and further did her paws tend to wander. through the valley, across the meadow, around the glade. she toed the invisible line that marked the furthest she'd ever been from —

home. yes, the valley was home.

one step and then another, the space between her and the familiarity of the lands growing greater with every stride.

she made a point not to wander too far, and an even bigger point to avoid the neighboring pack she'd picked up on the wind. eventually her paws led her to some reclusive forest which she took to meandering through. it was only when she came upon the distant figure of a stranger that her steps finally came to a halt. she looked onward with narrowing eyes, watchful and wary of the other.

He found himself at the edge of a woodland stretching as far as the eye could see. It was like any other, though the distant sound of running water captured his attention. Bushtit cocked his head, listening, then began traipsing through the endless rows of trees. He came across a stream once or twice, though it was frozen. Soon, he lost all sense of direction.

His mouth fell open when he came to a clearing and found himself at the foot of a spring which tumbled down a stepladder of rocks in segments of various size. Bushtit’s eyes bounced from one little waterfall to another, marveling at this natural landmark for several moments. Then he shuffled closer to take a sip from the lowest plunge pool.

Bushtit didn’t hear her footsteps over the trickling water, though suddenly a figure emerged from another stretch of the tree line. The boy blinked and raised his head, water dripping sloppily from his pale chin. He hastily wiped at it, then hesitated before offering an awkward wave.

for a few moments she simply observed the other, her feet firmly planted as if they'd been tree roots sprouting from the ground. but when the ghostly figure lifted their head to look upon her and wave, she let her paws slip free of their station and tread a little closer. 

vague features slowly morphed to detailed ones with each step as her nose gave a wiggle to try and discern where this stranger had come from. something foreign and sharp wafted through the air causing an abrupt pause of her advancement. 

she blew a puff of air from her nostrils as if trying to rid herself of the scent she'd just inhaled. "you smell weird." a condemning, pointed remark given as she turned her chin upward and peered down at the boy with judging eyes.

She ventured nearer, causing his heart to start hammering a little. His eyes tracked over her features, from the shock of brown fur at her forelock to her green eyes, then all the way down to her over-sized paws and back up again. She looked young, like him, which should’ve put him at ease. But Bushtit felt his body tensing, especially when she commented about his smell.

What? he blurted, frowning at the allegation. It kind of hurt his feelings. Weird how?

his frown did little to curb her bitchiness, if anything, it made her think him a wet rag. she took another huff of his scent to try and figure out what he could possible smell like, but she came up empty handed. "you smell dry, bland, like you ain't got no flavor."  

he was a bowl of plain, uncooked rice. 

but more importantly than his lack of any distinguishing smells she knew of, "you smell like you ain't from the valley," and that is what piqued her interest most of all. he looked her age, which in her mind meant he should live nearby. 

her nose crinkled with a suspicious glare. "where you from?" her best bet was a hole in the ground, which she ironically thought fitting for him.

His pale neck arched as he pressed his nose against his own shoulder and sniffed. Bushtit didn’t think he smelled like anything in particular, which shook hands with what she described. The boy’s face curdled a little, fairly certain now she was making fun of him.

He righted his head as she elaborated a little. Bushtit felt slightly better, though it still threw him that this she-wolf—his own peer—would come up to him and begin throwing insults. And they weren’t playful, like his mother’s.

Probably because I’m not from the valley, he said guilelessly, glancing around briefly before leveling her with another look. I’m from the lowlands, he told her, which was at least partly true. I’m Bushtit. What’s your name?

she awaited an answer expectantly and was pleased when one finally came. "the lowlands," she muttered, glancing around as if trying to figure out where exactly that might be in correspondence with the valley. he went on to introduce himself a moment later with a name she'd only caught half of. tit — what a weirdo. 

he asked for her own name, which typically she wouldn't reveal, but given his less than threatening appearance and overall attitude, she didn't see any reason not to. "zephyra," she introduced with a sharp, curt nod of her head. 

"so which direction are the lowlands?" she asked pointedly, fully expecting the boy to divulge the information she wanted.

They’re south of here, he informed her happily enough, raising a pale foot to point a toe. And west, Bushtit amended, feeling slightly silly for not simply saying “southwest.” I take it you’ve never been there? You should check it out someday, especially if you prefer drier, warmer climates over snow, he said with a slight wrinkle in his nose.

Zephyra, he repeated in his head as silence fell between them. She clearly lived somewhere in this valley; he wondered where, exactly. Had she ever left? Her commentary about his scent—and her unfamiliarity with the lowlands—made Bushtit think she hadn’t wandered much. He couldn’t begin to imagine a life so insular.

So… he wondered after a moment, do you live in a pack nearby?

southwest, the exact direction from which she'd traveled. her usual ventures took her north of the valley, if only because she'd not found much of interest toward the south. but perhaps if the lowlands were not as boring as tit smelled, they might be worth a visit. 

his comment certainly suggested that the place was at the very least different from anything she had ever known. "it don't snow there?" she asked, nose scrunching with disbelief. what kind of place didn't have snow?

she raised a paw to scratch at an itch behind her ear when his question rung out to the open air between them. "yeah," she answered plainly, twisting her neck to scratch even further. "in a valley," though she didn't bother divulging where exactly that was. as far as she was concerned, he had no reason to know.

It does, he replied, it just doesn’t tend to stick around as much as it does further north.

Zephyra looked displeased with this information, not to mention disinterested in the conversation as a whole. Her response to his own query was vague. He wanted to know more, though Bushtit sensed that she wasn’t volunteering the information for a reason. He hesitated.

Finally, he broke the increasingly awkward silence to say, Well, I think I’m gonna go back to sightseeing. It was, um, nice to meet you, Zephyra.

her paw reconnected with the ground, a dazed and long, "huuh," drawing past her lips as she tried to imagine what the lowlands were like. her imagination didn't get very far when the boy finally spoke again, this time announcing his departure to continue on sightseeing, as he called it. 

"oh," she mumbled with an unbothered roll of a shoulder, "see you around titty." she didn't hang about much longer before giving a stretch and spinning on her heels to begin the march back home. her mind, even more curious about the world now, continued to wonder what other strange places the earth held that she had yet to explore.

He didn’t mind that particular nickname, often thrown at him in jest. But there was that slightly hostile edge to it coming from Zephyra’s lips, unless he was imagining it. Bushtit didn’t have time to discern anything. She took the out, swiveling on a heel and leaving.

Bushtit licked his lips, pondering that brief rendezvous for a moment or two. Then he remembered the nearby steppes of water, his dark gaze flicking over them. Zephyra faded into the back of his mind as he walked a little nearer. The water ran, though it was edged with plenty of slippery ice, and that kind of put a kibosh on climbing the spring.

Guess you’ll have to come back in the summertime, he mused to himself, eyes wandering to the spot of trees where Zephyra had gone. ‘Cause if you slip and fall, she’s definitely not going to come back, even if she hears your cry for help, Bushtit mumbled, snorting a little as he continued his exploration.