the earth lumbers on

He had experienced many sensations in his years. But by far, hunger was the worst. It gnawed at him, scraping wildly and wickedly at the fraying ends of his nerves. It obstructed the clarity he desired to think. But the last few days had been a sheer mess of chaos, and Twister had hated the disorder. So when a few of them had set off in search of any morsel of delicious food, he had followed. And now, he kept a quiet watch. The wolves were all around them, this he had become well aware of. They lingered in the depths of the woodland, they lingered on the mountains. They were everywhere and in great number. Some of them were afraid of those wolves, but he saw no reason to fear them. They had numbers, sure, but they had not been through the hell that he had been through. They did not understand what desperation did to those who were willing to fight.

Dogmeat's bellow drew him loose from his watch, jarring him enough that he picked up his pace once more. The cold was biting and ignored as he moved to join his companion, briefly casting his gaze about. A quick test of the air told him what was there other than the wolves, but yes, the question remained. Where was the prey? Wordlessly, he set to trailing out a bit further, half playing tracker and half playing scout. Searching and hoping that they would find some indication of where their prize lied.