Ouroboros Spine Life is strange.

The mountain home felt more claustrophobic to him lately (which was strange since so many of the wolves had slipped away, eager to escape the tension in the air); maybe Revui was finally picking up on the strain between his parents, or maybe it was the heightened hormonal state of the women that drove him away on his own flight. He descended the mountain and by late afternoon he was in the foothills, heading north. He could smell an earthiness to the air — the naturalist in him knew that meant rain was on the way, so he looked to the heavens with a grim-set expression just as the first drops scattered on the wind.

The sky darkened as it took on more clouds, forming a blanket of overcast blue-greys that wept intermittently. He could hear the rain catching on the leaves around him. The hills had some tree-cover that kept Revui from feeling the rain, but the tiny spittle of water wasn't much to begin with. It was surprisingly cold. He found more shelter futher north as the forest overtook the landscape — prolific, coniferous, ripe with the scent of evergreen.

The further the boy went the less he thought about the tension back home, the yearning of his body when intoxicated by the heavy scent of the women, all the confusion that a teenage body might hold — he found comfort in his studying of the landscape and before long, found himself surrounded by unfamiliar undulations of stonework. He was intrigued by this space, and all thoughts of home vanished as he began to prowl through the fallen forest.