Blacktail Deer Plateau buried in the dark

Her response made some sense to him. It did not sound idyllic, although any place with warm bodies and fresh meat seemed better than living alone, the way he did. Tryphon listened with a turned ear, but was too timid still to let his eyes trace across the woman's features; when she motioned for him to come closer he obeyed without thinking, and only slowed his pace after taking a few steps, as if reconnecting his mind with his body. He saw the motion with his peripheral vision and thereafter drifted over, and plopped himself down in a graceless manner nearby. There was still enough space for himself to feel comfortable; he did not wish to encroach, although a piece of Tryphon was glad to have company.

You seem like you've seen better days, the woman pointed out, to which Tryphon had no response. Not at first.

She was right, and wrong. Any day spent in the company of his shadow, Saghani, was better than any others. Whatever Tryphon had been through in his life — distant and forgotten, or etched forever in his memory — paled in comparison. But he was alone now. Saghani was not with him and he couldn't understand why. Her absence was a wound that continued to fester. He inhaled slowly, inflating with thoughts and pine-scented oxygen, and exhaled a thin puff of smoke — it dissipated, and he watched it, then returned to the conversation.

The wolf licked its lips as if preparing to reply, and then merely nodded. He wasn't sure what to say, and worried that if he did not say anything at all, she would leave him. It took a few moments before Tryphon began to speak, and it was with a slow drawl; some of the words crackled and squeaked as if the sounds within them had never been used before, indicating how long it had been since he'd spoken in-depth.

I was looking for someone, he admitted initially, and again licked his dry lips. But I don't think she.. She wants me to find her. Before her, I had nothing. And... I'm afraid... The words caught in his throat there, and he turned his yellowed gaze upon Saena with some trepidation, and they were filled with a great longing, a sadness. An unspoken truth he couldn't quite wrap his tongue around: Afraid I'll be alone again.

To rid himself of the hopeless feelings he now harbored, or rather had become fully aware of, Tryphon threw caution to the wind and abruptly lurched towards Saena. He did not do so maliciously, but seemed to fall forward from his seated position and had to brace himself, and then took an extra step so he could be a little bit closer to her. By straining his neck he could reach out to her with his nose, and he curiously — carefully — sniffed at the fur of her scruff, keeping his eyes wide and his senses alert in case she turned on him.

When he was satisfied, he withdrew slowly, like a snail into its shell.

Are you lonely? He asked then, wondering if she understood. He idly settled back into a droopy sphynx-like sprawl across the ledge.