Honeyed Pasture the unexpected turn

At the beginning of the season Stockholm had held concerns about how he and Coelacanth would fare, and where they would go. This land was unfamiliar to him and he was uncertain of what to expect from the weather and availability of prey animals. He would be the first one to admit that his time spent amongst humans had made him soft. But the winter hardened him, thickened his coat, trained his senses to the wilderness again.

The air still held a harsh chill, but his internal clock told him that they were on the upswing – the days were growing longer, and before too long the weather would warm, the snow would recede. It was only a matter of time before they crossed the ocean again back to the island; their island.

He watched Seelie as she dashed ahead of him, frolicking in the powdery snow. Sometimes he wondered where she got all that energy from. She was like a perpetual motion machine, taking twice as many steps as he did in a day. And though a good portion of his focus remains on her and her antics, he never completely lets his guard down, always aware of his surroundings – which is how he catches a distantly familiar scent carried on the cool breeze.

The Gampr pauses, draws in another breath and gives a soft chuff to Seelie to draw her attention. He knew that scent, didn’t he? He sweeps his gaze across the broad expanse of the pasture and the turning gears in his head click into place when he spots the brilliant red coat in the distance. Hemlock. He did not know her well, they never really had a chance to become acquainted, but he remembered her and her family coming across from the mainland to seek refuge on the shores of Wheeling Gull Island.

One of the many individuals he wondered about, worried about how things had turned out for them when he and Seelie returned to find the island empty. So without hesitation, he plows through the snow to cross the clearing to greet her, “Hemlock!”