Totoka River i believe pain breeds wolves and joys give rise to moons
a crime so old
as the sky and bone
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the morning sun is just starting to peek over the horizon as cyron follows the winding totoka river west. the significance of this does not fall out of cyron's notice. it's the first time he's stepped outside of easthollow's borders since he escaped from blackfeather woods and found his way home; and while he could easily claim that he was looking for his MIA mother that wasn't the truth at all. the truth was that this trek was entirely selfish. though they do not intend them to be: easthollow's borders feel more and more like a prison to him and though he desires the safety that they provide: the wall between him and them; he feels like he's suffocating and as anxiety plagued him along his patrol in the dark throes of the morning he veered sharply over the borders and ...didn't look back. he has no direction in his mind. he only knows that he wants to be anywhere else but home. the uncertain edge that exists between him and rowana hasn't helped any and he feels the crushing weight of disappointment: from his sister, from his parents. he can't be what they want him to be and he can't go through his life pretending that he does not suffer everyday with the after affects of the horror he barely survived. oh, he hides it ...as well as he can, at any rate. he doesn't speak of it and it occurs to him on multiple occasions that if he did speak of it perhaps he could help them to understand. but he doesn't. because he wants to protect them, or because he wants to deal with his demons on his own he isn't quite sure.

cyron pauses at the edge of the totoka river's forest, not yet ready to breach into the field of glassy deltas. he bows his head at the river's end where it rushes over smooth stones and laps at the cool, refreshing water. he takes a deep drink, salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls to collect the stray droplets of water as they dribble down his chin when cyron finally lifts his head and casts his dull chestnut gaze at the unfamiliar territory around him. it is calm and quiet and for the moment cyron discerns, he's seemingly alone.
war ate a boy
and spat out a man
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i believe pain breeds wolves and joys give rise to moons - by Cyron - March 21, 2018, 06:01 AM