Phoenix Maplewood all those empty rooms

some of the tension in his body begins to ease, head beginning to raise—eyes temporarily following the other's, ears standing tall.

the scent of something to eat.

accepting help does not come easily to him, but it's hard to know when the next opportunity will be in a season so harsh. undeniably, he's hungry, tired, and aching. it leaves him vulnerable, and as much as his instinct is to push those thoughts away with the confidence that he can handle it, the wise option is to accept.

and, after all, just maybe the road had brought him somewhere.

a few long moments, and then a soft exhale out of his nose. . . if your own are already fed.