Porcupine Ridge threshold

“I wanted to crawl to the top of the world.” There was a sudden feeling in the male’s gut at the sound of her words. His eyes pulled away from her and slowly scoured the tips of the ridge. To another, her comment might have sounded peculiar, even mad, but for the ashen brute… he could feel something similar in his chest and in the very depths of his bones. “This is a fitting place to do so,” he remarked, still following the dangerous peaks and falls of the ridge with his golden gaze. Kierkegaard could not quite place it, but there was something familiar about the wiry female. Perchance it was something in her vibrant yellow gaze, or the manner in which she tossed her words from her tapered muzzle with a strange sort of savagery. In spite of this, he felt at ease in her presence. There was no threat, no discomfort, and no obligation. It seemed that she was not perturbed by his silence or his rare short-syllabled responses to the few questions that she offered. It was out of the ordinary for the Sairensu male to find company of that sort. Had he more capability for socializing, he would have expressed his liking for her presence. Instead, he remained silent until another question struck his lengthy ashen ears. “I have not,” he answered her with a small frown, drawing his gaze back towards her intense features. “I have traveled most of my life.” Which meant that he had never known a real home before. Home was wherever he could settle down for the night, and by morning it was just another empty shell in the world.