underwater

On the edge of Polaris Icefield, where it meets SFT6.

Since his little mental episode with Scimitar, Tryphon wanted to put some distance between himself and the peak. It wouldn't last; he knew he had to go back and continue his duties, but for the time being he needed a vacation. He left behind the forest and made his way across some low hills, feeling the earth grow harder as the permafrost took hold. It was peculiar and - just like his feelings prior when looking at Nova Peak - familiar. Tryphon came to an unsteady halt as his paws met the shining icefield, abruptly unwilling to budge if it meant feeling as disoriented as before. A strange sort of fear gripped at the boy then, making him slump and stare out at the unending chill of what lay before him.

The viking decided he loved this life of freedom, although he did miss companionship. It was instinct, wolves were social creatures after all, it was in their nature. He himself loved company and so, even when he was a lone wolf without a pack, he sought for others of his kind. The trickster traveled for a few days to the north of the meadow, Caspian had always been drawn to the north, the colder areas and the seas. He supposed it was in his blood, a northern viking, and the way he was raised. The Scandinavian had never known the southern lands until he chose to leave his natal pack, his own mother, born from the warmer lands chose to spend the rest of her life with his father, and though she shared stories of her childhood with him, his northerner eyes had never seen them himself.

But now he did, and such beautiful lands they were, rich grassy rolling hills, teeming with prey and life. So much life. Softer lands, and green ones, ones that had never truly known winter, but beautiful nonetheless. A gentler beauty, unlike the harsher and fiercer ones of his fatherland.

The Ironfrost arrived at an icefield, drawing a large grin onto his hardened features and a warm chuckle. It was some part of home, after all, and the viking still missed the family he had left behind. Then his keen blue eyes spotted a form, not far away, he was about to shout and greet whoever that was when the other wolf slumped down. Though trained not to show mercy to his enemies, he had always been compassionate, a trait he shared with his twin and mother and so it was normal for him to run to strangers who seemed to be hurt and ask if he could help.

And that was what he did now. Trotting towards the boy's form, he asked in a gentle, lightly accented tone, "Hey kid, you alright?" He'd learnt that most of the inhabitants of this wild spoke English, thank Odinn his mother taught him that language or he would be hopeless here.

He felt a pain in his legs, and a foul smell entered his nose - and for a moment, Tryphon thought he was on fire. It was only a moment, though. A confusing second of half-remembered pain, and the smell of a feral creature from his childhood; but the boy could not place it. He didn't know why he now studied his forelimbs, or why he was just noticing the old scars that decorated them from wrist to elbow. When had that happened? Where? And why did looking out at the ice make him so nervous?

The boy shuddered and looked away - in time with the stranger's approach, and then his question. Tryphon would've been surprised enough to jump from his own skin, as usual, but he was too distracted even for that. The question was an interesting one though. He shrugged a little, shaking his head as if to say, No, I'm far from alright, but then muttered a contrary, "I'm fine, I'll be fine." With a hard swallow, Tryphon forced himself to step back - mentally and physically - from the strange view before himself. He turned to look at the distant mountain where he had come from, and then his gaze wandered to the pale stranger.

"Do you ever feel like you've lost your mind?" The boy asked, and then upon hearing his own question, scowled softly. His ears fell back and he shook his head again, but this time at his own stupidity. This was no place to gush about how fractured he felt. "Nevermind. Forget it." He slurred, and began to stiffly return in the direction of the mountain. Afraid, on some level, of the ice and anything else that it would tell him.