Arrow Lake You believe in mountains, right? Not everyone does.

Looking for a fast-paced hunt practice thread! Please only join if you're able to reply at least once every 2-3 days! Nevermind, changing to read only in light of Stigmata telling Aurë to GTFO!

It was almost a month ago that Vercingetorix left his children once more. In the intervening time, Dragomir did not come to understand his father's decision any better than he had in the moment. All it did was plant a seed of confusion and doubt in him that grew and festered and changed with the days.

First it was sadness. He loved his father dearly and he wanted to go with Vercingetorix. If Vercingetorix couldn't be happy in Diaspora, then Dragomir didn't want to be there either. It was nothing against his packmates, whom he cared deeply for, or the beautiful Arrow Lake with its cascading waters and fragrant summer trees. It was just that he had been missing his father for well over half his young life and he desperately wanted the man back.

But then it was confusion. Did Vercingetorix not want him or Isilmë or Aurëwen? Was he secretly living another life somewhere else? When would he come back and take his family to their real home like he'd promised? Every day that question grew louder in the quiet of Dragomir's mind, and every day his belief that his sire was doing this for his family shriveled a little more. As abstract concepts became more and more comprehensible to Dragomir, he became less and less sure that it was okay to hurt your family while claiming to be working for their benefit.

At last it blossomed into anger. How could he leave them all and be gone for so long without a word? How long could it possibly take to find their real home? Too long, in Dragomir's mind. Vercingetorix wasn't coming back, and if he did, did Dragomir even want to go with a man who thrust a dagger into the hearts of his kin and left it there for so long? He didn't know the answer to that.

His expression was sour as he veritably stomped into a clearing near the edge of Diaspora's claim that just so happened to be home to several large families of field mice. His intent wasn't to hunt when he arrived there, but Dragomir's blood sang in response to the prospect of a chase. It took only one sleek grey body darting across his path for all his hurt and the anger that was forming from it to rise into furious energy; soon he was racing across the glen here and there, trying to catch the swift little mice that were, for now, still too quick for bumbling puppy paws. But in an uncharacteristic turn of events, Dragomir would growl every time one got away from him—his usual playful competitiveness replaced with something more frustrated.

Another small grey shadow flew across the ground in front of him. Dragomir redirected his energy to pounding after it, but once more the mouse proved too quick for him. It slipped into a crevice in the roots of a tree and disappeared. With a despairing cry, Dragomir wheeled away from the tree and dug his claws into the soft summer loam of the clearing. He badly wanted to throw a temper tantrum and very nearly did, but instead he forced the hot angry tears that sprung to his eyes down and swallowed thickly. He ignored the next mouse to cross his path and only after taking several large, steadying breaths did he calm himself down enough to think.

He may have been his mother's son with the strength of his emotions, but he was equally his father's son. Despite Vercingetorix's flaws (and there were many), the man was stoic in his own way. Dragomir could be, too. He grounded himself and then left the clearing, but he was unable to erase the glower that settled upon his features. His mood was dark for the rest of the day.