Phoenix Maplewood the right to rise luminous

for @Cry :-)

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He is remiss to leave behind the hot springs, having relished for as long as he could in their warmth, in the soothe of his wound that if not for the care of a young medic apprentice might very well have been his death. Valtamr did not realize it at the time, younger and reckless as he’d been — an eager legionnaire to impress his commander, his king. The ruined flesh and ache that gives him a reprieve in the summer months (though not of the limp, mind, just the pain) will never go away; and though he has learned how to mask it when the agony does not flare the ugly, ruined flesh will always give his disadvantage away. He heads North from the hot springs and finally acknowledges that he needs a rest when he reaches a forest of maples and birches, the smell sweet as he drinks it in. His leg is stiff and it begs him for recovery time. He has long since acknowledged that he will never again have the stamina he once held as a younger man: that he could not cover the distance he once could in a day, or night. The morning sun is warm and sets the canopy above in a golden halo as he shrugs between two maple trees, careful to avoid the sweet sap they seeped. He seeks a water source by instinct and when he comes across what is seeking he acquiescences to the demands of his leg as he settles down upon his haunches and then lowers onto his belly in a sphinx-like position with a low grunt, shifting his weight so his left leg may have it’s reprieve as he bows his head and laps from the water.

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Cry kept up with his scouting, wandering from land to land, simply learning of the vast body of Teekon. He had taken to finishing his usual goals which included noting game trails, learning who lived where, the various dwellings of the packs, where most prey tended to go, and who and who not to trust to hunt with you.

As of now, the ebony youth desired rest, his travels long and far over the course of a sngle pair of days. He had passed the general vicinity of the sea, long behind him, at this point, as he headed inward to the land. The dashing assassin followed the feel of softer ground, a hint of where the next watersource would lay, as the majority of vegitation increased. Nature itself directed him to the stream, though what it had left out was the company it bore.

Cry watched from a distance, his wintery irises staying on the prone form as he got his information from the senses that allowed him. Sight told him of this grizzled male being experienced in whatever gave him that mass of a scar upon the unfavored leg, tossed form under the body like a runt child. Scent told him this male was just that- a male, and without getting closer, Cry could not discern whether the brute was in touch with a pack or not.

Usually he didn't attempt to get involved with company, but he was thirsty, and he would not deny sating the urge in spite of his loathe for conversation. He could tolerate it, but only when it wasn't a waste of his time, which he found most things to be. The shadow prince came close to the hefty reclined man, nodding a greeting to him as he too bent down for a drink.