Broken Antler Fen gi joe

He hasn’t found a single thing.

No drop of blood, no clump of hair, no word of mouth of the man he was starting to forget. Nothing of Maxim.

Sable was lost. He drifted, slow, as if Maxim would crawl out of the ground before him and confess to a journey through the hells to come back to his son. But nothing.

His progress was slow. He took his time, ate and slept and bathed. The result was the bear of a boy winding up here. A gentle mist about his legs, early morning dew wetting the fur until he was slicked down to his undercoat. The boy had his head lowered, following the scent of a beaver, though he didn’t know what that was yet.