Neverwinter Forest Breathless

lol, kerberos is derpy sometimes. xD

In the face of what Kerberos acknowledged to be the truth regarding himself, he knew that there was something …disorienting about having no specific path beyond that he was meant to be in these lands. He was, however temporary (at least, he sincerely hoped this was temporary) a nomad but he felt measurably lost without a nudge from Atka, who had been exceedingly, perhaps frustratingly silent. Her presence remained, of course, she had never truly left Kerberos’ side since he had seen her rise from the sea-foam in Shearwater Bay so many months ago, yet he felt like he’d, stupidly, misplaced his compass and was now just wondering in giant circles. He had scented, at least, two packs in the area though he knew nothing of them, and while Kerberos understood that they weren’t going to, magically, appear and spout off all the information that he desired to know about them, he was hesitant to approach their borders to simply inquire. His social skills were still, probably to Atka’s dismay though the Nereides Spawn felt no impatience from the Mother of Light, an extreme work in progress. He still shied away from being the first to speak in conversations and requesting information sort of warranted that he speak first, didn’t it?

Here in this forest he might one day come to know as Neverwinter Forest, it was dark, the canopy above stubbornly refusing to let the sunlight through it’s towering conifers. It was cooler in the confines of this forest then it had been in the hot springs, naturally, but there was something ominous about the forest that had salt water frosted, wet sand colored hackles to bristle with uncertainty along the curve of his spine. Bright, sea-green eyes took in his darkened path as he stepped slowly, cautiously, shrugging past overgrown shrubbery, feeling it tangle in the coarse tendrils of his fur. Seaweed swathed pearl was drawn tighter into his jaws, head lifting up to keep it out of the greedy grasp of sharp branches so it may not tear. If he lost his precious pearl, a gift of the Sea, a reminder of who he was and who he would become, Kerberos would probably go into a conniption. He shouldn’t have needed it but importantly, he wanted it. It was all he had took when he’d left, it was the trinket that he had decided he could not part with. The other trinkets had been either given back to the Sea, given to Atka and Sos’ shrines, or given to Silatyok (Tokio fears she is butchering the spelling) whom Kerberos had been…semi-romantically involved with.

Something grayscale moved up ahead, catching Kerberos’ attention, and the Aok boy froze, muscles pulling taunt as he studied the creature that neared, crouching in the barren shrubbery that was mostly dead twigs -- forgetting that Kerberos, sand colored as he was, looking much like his mother Aktaie (except for the cream of Lecter’s natural fur that dominated his chest and underbelly), that he did not blend well. Head lowered as he set his fragile possession down between his front paws, gingerly trapping the wrapped parcel between them for safe-keeping leaving his muzzle free, not that, mind you, he had any intentions of speaking to what his nose told him was a her -- and likely a pack wolf. Instead, Kerberos contented himself with watching her cautiously hoping that she didn’t see him (though this was likely, a futile hope).