they had travelled far, the ragtag group, farther south than he had ever been. This freedom, traveling with his closest friend and their small group together, had been exhilarating, yet not without its share of hardship.
Still the the image of his mother disappearing into the land of the brotherhood, the feeling that he had somehow made ill on his promise to make her proud, haunted him and was like a crushing weight on his chest. The bitter feeling of failure followed him, and a thousand what-ifs constantly tugged at his mind. What if he had stayed? And what if Vuk had come with them? And the one that caused his chest to constrict, what if he never saw his mother again? But he could hardly bear for that to come true, that nagging what if, and he would have to visit. He simply had to see her again, make sure that she was alright. Because, he was coming to realize, he did not know if she had ever been truly happy, the way he was with Freyja when his worries left him for a while. And what, he wondered, if he was the cause?
such thoughts, however, were shoved aside forcefully as he glanced back at those he now travelled with. The sky had retained a bloodless shade throughout the day, the air a sharp cold that seemed to cut down to his bones. Travel had been slow, the blowing winds and stinging pellets of snow slowing them to but a snail’s pace. The landscape was harsh, unforgiving, the sharp green of coniferous branches the only color in a land painted with shades of grey. The sky was growing dark, evening upon them, and the boy glanced skyward, concern ringing his features. He knew of plants, of travel, of healing and more. But naught of weather.
He ought to have learned.
It was hard to tell exactly when the soft, sparse flurries became a thick veil blurring the world, when the winds begun to scream and the snow made travel simply to precarious to continue onward. The boy turned, searching for his silver-coated companion, he, painted in shades of golden tawny, was significantly easier to find in the snow then she. He blinked rapidly as snow drove fearsomely against his optics, stilling his paws and moving closer to Freyja. He looked to her with concern, for he knew not how sever the storm would get, having never been in the midst of a fierce blizzard himself. "We need to find shelter." He told her, raising his voice above the winds, for hardly could he think of a better course of action at the moment.
Still the the image of his mother disappearing into the land of the brotherhood, the feeling that he had somehow made ill on his promise to make her proud, haunted him and was like a crushing weight on his chest. The bitter feeling of failure followed him, and a thousand what-ifs constantly tugged at his mind. What if he had stayed? And what if Vuk had come with them? And the one that caused his chest to constrict, what if he never saw his mother again? But he could hardly bear for that to come true, that nagging what if, and he would have to visit. He simply had to see her again, make sure that she was alright. Because, he was coming to realize, he did not know if she had ever been truly happy, the way he was with Freyja when his worries left him for a while. And what, he wondered, if he was the cause?
such thoughts, however, were shoved aside forcefully as he glanced back at those he now travelled with. The sky had retained a bloodless shade throughout the day, the air a sharp cold that seemed to cut down to his bones. Travel had been slow, the blowing winds and stinging pellets of snow slowing them to but a snail’s pace. The landscape was harsh, unforgiving, the sharp green of coniferous branches the only color in a land painted with shades of grey. The sky was growing dark, evening upon them, and the boy glanced skyward, concern ringing his features. He knew of plants, of travel, of healing and more. But naught of weather.
He ought to have learned.
It was hard to tell exactly when the soft, sparse flurries became a thick veil blurring the world, when the winds begun to scream and the snow made travel simply to precarious to continue onward. The boy turned, searching for his silver-coated companion, he, painted in shades of golden tawny, was significantly easier to find in the snow then she. He blinked rapidly as snow drove fearsomely against his optics, stilling his paws and moving closer to Freyja. He looked to her with concern, for he knew not how sever the storm would get, having never been in the midst of a fierce blizzard himself. "We need to find shelter." He told her, raising his voice above the winds, for hardly could he think of a better course of action at the moment.
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Messages In This Thread
Leave my sunglasses on while I shed a tear - by Seff - December 28, 2016, 10:12 AM
RE: Leave my sunglasses on while I shed a tear - by Freyja - December 28, 2016, 10:45 AM
RE: Leave my sunglasses on while I shed a tear - by Seff - January 18, 2017, 01:39 PM