Barrow Fields now i'm in exile

243

The fields again. Eyes narrowed suspiciously as he surveyed the lands, his meeting with the wayward child so fresh in his mind. The wonderment of what he would discover this evening lingered at the forefront of his mind like a carrot strung ahead of him, just out of his reach. Both infuriating and tantalizing, it was the proverbial carrot that drew him forward and across these lands, once more seeking to discover the secrets that it held so preciously.

There was no surprise that lit across his expression when he came across the scent of another; these fields were vast, their grasses alluring whether for a rest or for a meal, and to find another adult was common place. Venjulegur. Also common place was the drive to seek out the companionship of another, even if said companion would only remain so temporarily.

As the bats swooped and swirled overhead, the man of pale creams and golds found his quarry sleeping against a knoll, her fur the color of pitch in the wash of the moon. The slumber that held her was curious to him; how did she sleep so soundly in the open like this? His brother and he had done so before, of course, but they were together and she... alone, judging by the scent of her.

Brave and perhaps reckless, Stjornuati would venture closer, a gentle nudge made to bony shoulder, seeking to rouse the woman who slept so easily here.