Silvertip Mountain I was told there's only one road that leads you home

@Annaliese — finally got it up :)

From afar, the boy was a shadow traversing the mountain, dipping from crevice to crevice with an aptitude born of repition. His limber appendages carried him nimbly across aged trails, and his dark inheritance shimmered a spectrous blue. It was uncharacteristic for the stripling to be so predictable, but Marruz had been here many a time, and he knew exactly why he continued to return.

Silky spirals of carbon lifted from his lips like smoke from a cigarette. He watched them writhe and dissolve into the evening air with those incongruous sable and indigo eyes that glinted a steely, albeit contented, light; two oil lamps in the waning glow of the sun. The hues caught his body in a chaotic blaze of luminescent blue — a biproduct of his Melonii heritage — that would, once nighttime arrived, settle back into its subtle sheen upon a smooth, ebony canvas. 

A vagabond at birth, Marruz was not willing to remain encopsed within the Weald for very long. True, it was a place that he deeply revered and felt comfortable within (for once), but it was also simply too rooted for his young soul. Besides, he yearned to see the stars from more than just between those towering limbs. They were an integral part of his life now: something he lived for, if nothing else. So, tonight, like many of its predecessors, he was yet again on an adventure.