it might have been weeks, or it might have been months, but he'd already lost count of sunrise and sunset, hardly heeding its warnings of light and dark. it matters little, because the journey continues indefinitely, across grasses sprouting in dirt solid as ice and barren snow plains, over hill and root and beneath the faded canopy of once lush trees.
he can take care of himself. it is not a problem, not by any means.
until the ocean fades from view, and there are no more fish or crabs or mussels. until what he sees and hears are large creatures with kicking hooves and branching horns and a weight that he cannot take down alone. a stray thought of past companions comes to mind and is quickly forced out, ears swiveling in focus.
small prey bears the curse that most beasts do at this time: the inability to find food, competition for resources ever growing in the season, and hunting thin rabbits is not sustainable—especially not with this scent on the wind. of wolves, somewhere, more than one, and if there's anything he knows, a pack will protect its own. his presence may be a slight in itself, even just outside the border of this territory, but weariness falls, and all there is is these barren trees and muscles that ache with overexertion.
nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
he can take care of himself. it is not a problem, not by any means.
until the ocean fades from view, and there are no more fish or crabs or mussels. until what he sees and hears are large creatures with kicking hooves and branching horns and a weight that he cannot take down alone. a stray thought of past companions comes to mind and is quickly forced out, ears swiveling in focus.
small prey bears the curse that most beasts do at this time: the inability to find food, competition for resources ever growing in the season, and hunting thin rabbits is not sustainable—especially not with this scent on the wind. of wolves, somewhere, more than one, and if there's anything he knows, a pack will protect its own. his presence may be a slight in itself, even just outside the border of this territory, but weariness falls, and all there is is these barren trees and muscles that ache with overexertion.
nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
through wading grass,
the months will pass
you'll feel it all around
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all those empty rooms - by Justiciar - 7 hours ago