Bramblepoint know who you are

[table width=80%][tr][td]The young hunter lingered - unsure of what to do next. He had left home, but now what? It was too late for him to go back and too soon to travel much farther than he had already done. He felt lost and yet in place; flying yet standing - no, sinking in quicksand. At night, he went into the fields to admire the fireflies. At day, he hunted a rabbit or two (he was certainly getting better at that) and then slept till midnight again. He had no one to talk to but passing strangers that never stuck around longer than a few minutes and he had lost count of the days he had spent on his own. Surely mother would be worried right now - surely father had noticed yet another son had gone missing. But Vassago could only think of one thing; finding Pyro and escaping to lands beyond anything imaginable yet again.

He ventured into the woods he had explored a bit already, sniffing in the many scents of blooming flowers that would soon turn into ripe berries safe to eat. Well, not ALL of them of course, but he'd find out about that someday. All he knew that the scents and colours attracted butterflies - creatures he loved to chase but could never quite catch. He didn't want to catch them; they were simply too beautiful. The trees brought perfect shade and he finally felt alive again.

That was, until the scent of strangers drifted past him and his ears perked. He wrinkled the bridge of his muzzle, trying hard to track the trail but ultimately ended up wandering instead of actually tracking. Usually he was good at it, but the many scents tipped his senses off no matter how hard he tried. It was near a peculiar tree he saw someone; sure, it was not his brother (this guy was far bigger and bulkier and looked more like father if anyone else) but at least it was a different face. The Rochester, who was roughly the same size as the young man that looked around his age, cleared his throat in a sense of greeting and looked questioningly at the other.[/td][/tr][/table]