Sun Mote Copse caught in a river of rockers and dreams

it had been a laborious trek, to say the least.

umber earth crumbled beneath him; small, chalk-dusted paws drawing steadily to a halt. they had to be here, didn’t they? his eyes, round and doe-shaped, sailed down to the ground for a fleeting heartbeat as though studying in silence the way the dirt had moulded itself around his feet. the way the tree-roots curled, the way the scabrous bark encircled him. a breath, sucked through ivory teeth, and he steeled himself to the soil.

a year had passed – a year since he last stepped foot in the wilds. a year since he had seen the treasured faces of his family, heeded their voices, doused himself in their warmth. he was afraid, in a doting sort of way; a little surge of butterflies erupting in his belly, writhing in their anticipations. it had been scary, all that time away – he’d made a friend, here and there, sheltered in the domiciles of amiable strangers, but in his absent year the boy had matured into a young man, quite by himself. a fledgling, fallen from the nest, only to spread his wings and soar.

perhaps that was an exaggeration; his form had filled out, at least. he was lanky, still, yet his eyes smouldered a burnished bronze and he held himself with a disposition of merry warmth, resolute in his composure (despite the thrumming of his heart). his tail, once a mauled and bloody stump, was fully healed upon his hind – plush, flocculent. a few scars bestrewed upon his pelt, interrupting the monochrome pelage, yet despite it all, he was well.

a breath of wind gushed at his crown, ruffling the silver fur, and he shivered – skin vibrating with a flush of nerves. he wasn’t going to delay this any longer; he had to see his family. a call was summoned forth from charcoal lips, a greeting, a plea: i’m here! i’m here… please come!