Arrow Lake i wish a cure for my cold tongue existed

With every cautious step, Astrophel knew he gained more distance between himself and Orion.

It worried him, as many things seemed to do. His father had loved his mother more than anything, and now with him, the final reminder of Nova, dispersed to the winds, would his father be alright? The thought dogged at him as the star boy blazed his trails away from Orion’s nomadic range. He was to find his star, and the night sky held so many. It was an insurmountable task, even to generally positive Astrophel.

He did it anyway, because it was what had been asked of him, and he was not going to tell Orion no. So, here he was. The mountains, wind gently tugging at odd tufts of fur that had been ruffled from travel, his eyes never leaving his feet. To fall would be a disaster, absolute. He could not slow until he found the star his father said was out there.

The voice that drifted along the wind snapped into his ears like a boom of thunder, and he halted his cautious, mouse-like walking to twist his face towards the sound. Then, he was off, still cautious, but faster now, moving gracelessly. He bounced off a rock, shoulder stinging from the blow, and scrambled to get his legs to ease him into a stop.

Where?

There.

Small, dark, the scent of iron upon his tongue.

What did you hurt? His voice came out half breathless, strained, stress coating his throat and squeezing it into almost strangulation. Stress had never been Astrophel’s game, it tended to do him more harm than good, but he would not be leaving a wounded stranger to tend to themselves if he could help it.