Swiftcurrent Creek everything the light touches

@Israel - set in the late afternoon of the 14th of december.

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In an effort to curb the growing wanderlust within his heart (and the growing unease), Tryphon had taken to pacing the upward paths of the mountain range. Without telling anyone where he was off to, he simply kept on climbing, and by the time the afternoon sun was beaming down with its powerful and crisp rays, he had left the vale behind. It wasn't permanent — he told himself this repeatedly, each time with more doubt — as he had a home there, a purpose. A promise to be kept.

He needed to rest eventually. Tryphon worried that if he paused for any reason, then it would be over. The fantasy life he'd been leading this far with the Dusk wolves -- he'd have to move on. So he didn't stop, he didn't rest. The world passed him by in a blur as he overtook the irregular tophography of the hillside, wound his way between trees, and came to a stop only when his paws touched upon water and he was jarred from his thoughts. He did not run from the vale because he was afraid of them - he ran because he didn't trust himself. His loyalties. His weaknesses.

He ran because he just needed a second to think and reflect without the constant pressure of others. The boy was panting hard and absently leaning against a massive boulder which had somehow settled beside the creek; it was thick with snow now, but on any other day it would've resembled a giant ball of moss, perhaps with tiny flowers dotting the surface. Tryphon was more concerned with the reflection he saw within the creek's waters — a strange young man with a golden face and wild eyes whose image was interrupted by the smooth river stones jutting from within.

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