Silverlight Terrace the boy who lived

The thread I promised you fifty-leven years ago! @Rannoch

As winter progressed and the air grew in stinging bitterness with its slashing shafts of ice-wind, Sirius engorged himself on self-pity and had become swollen up on his insecurities the longer he remained alone. Since his negative encounter at the last border he'd come near enough to taste, the boy had become more elusive than before, and even in this desolate sort of weather, he actively avoided the company he privately craved.

His desires -- far outweighed by his fears -- left him tepid and indecisive. He fed himself, but without any enthusiasm; quite unsure of what it was he sustained himself for. There were none for him to love (be loved by) or at the very least protect, and the ragged youth often blubbered pitifully when his loneliness evolved regularly into a cross he thought too heavy for him to bear.

And yet still, he trudged on. Even now, with a set of clouded winter rays at his back, he imparted his uncertain path to the snow-blanketed lowlands. It was quiet here, eerily so, but the sorrowful boy didn't notice. He listened only to his own keening steps, while he cast doubtful glances around him in a poor attempt to find something -- anything -- that would fill the literal and proverbial emptiness  between his ribs.