Blackfeather Woods I can leave my back to my allies as I fight

Keeping the details concerning his meeting with Nanook vague. Anyone up for dealing with this gloomy boy (or attempting to brighten his mood) is more than welcomed to pop in.

The sudden appearance of his sister had left the boy in a slight daze, dragging all the feelings he’d suppressed to the surface once more. Despair filled his veins with ice, the jagged pieces being continuously looped through his heart and leaving behind painful tears. For the majority of his journey home, his heart had ached with indescribable agony, leaving him feeling as if he’d been physically wounded. Several times he’d been forced to a stop, his legs trembling far too much to keep him moving. He was not ill, yet his stomach churned with uncertainty and other emotions he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, place. Slowly, though, that pain had started to morph into something else, something dark. Each step he took towards Blackfeather had his heart thumping even harder within his chest, the action growing somewhat violent. It got to the point where he felt he could go no further, thus stopping him along the creek. He remained there for longer than necessary, staring towards the shadows he knew to be home. The anguish he’d previously felt had died away by then, replaced by a fiery hatred. It was not directed towards his home, of course, but towards life itself.

Alexander had continued his trek home with fire rushing through his veins, melting the ice and leaving him incapable of feeling anything but abhorrence. For the longest time, he’d wished for his family to be reunited, for his sisters to live within the dark woods at his side, but he was finally realizing that such an occurrence would never happen. They’d chosen long ago who they’d wished to remain with, where they’d wished to live, and though it was irrational, he held it against them. Their choices had brought him more pain than he’d realized, but he had no way of expressing himself—he didn’t know how. The way one coped with their emotions varied between each individual, and he’d yet to discover his own. Alas, the young Inuit had not yet realized that, and so he’d never worked towards finding a healthy outlet. No, instead, he’d kept everything bottled up nice and tight, not allowing his inner thoughts to be read.

Or, at least, that’s how it’d used to be.

As the pallid boy crossed the threshold into the territory, a wave of familiarity washed over him. It comforted him unknowingly, but even that was not enough to take the edge off. Anger continued to run rampant throughout his slender body, his conscious egging him on. Inutovunga. The thought came so suddenly, leaving him unprepared for it. In truth, he was not alone. He knew he wasn’t alone, yet insecurities had a funny way of tampering with one’s mind. He had his dad, he had Nem, and he had the pack. Xan was not alone, he had never been alone, but the notion still lingered in the back of his head. No matter how many times he shook his head, the troubling word would not leave. It seemed to echo within his skull, taunting him in a way no other had before. Doing the only thing he felt himself capable of at the time, the Inuit continued to walk forward through the forest, his direction seemingly random and unplanned. Unconsciously, perhaps he was looking for someone, though the ‘who’ was unknown.