Moonsong Glacier a tear in the membrane

He hadn't stuck around with dad and Towhee and Meerkat. Not again.
It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to, because that childish part of him still yearned — oh, how horribly it did so. But his dad was happy, elsewhere; happy without him. And the most sour reaches of his mind could not bear to witness it.
He wanted to go to the isle, to visit it; to think that, maybe, it would make him feel some sort of wholeness, and yet he could not bring himself to go up the coast no matter how hard he tried. What would even greet him if he showed up? How would he feel? Was it even a good idea?
And so, he didn't; he didn't go to the caldera, either. Instead, he lingers near the mountains like an absolute pansy, wedged between the ranges in the woodland valleys. The ever-daunting Silvertip hosts a glacier and it is bitter and unwelcoming; harsh winds, frozen waste everywhere he looks. There are people here, too, people he doesn't know.
Admittedly, he is curious.