The Tangle composer but never composed

His steps slow, featherlight with uncertainty, and he glances around uneasily with ears pinned back. I think we're lost, He says softly, gaze flitting over @Alaister briefly as dismay spreads across his features. He can't remember the last time he'd gotten lost. His heart starts to race at the thought, but he steadies himself, taking in a deep breath. Maybe... if we wait for night, we can follow the stars. I-I don't want to go back the way we came. His gaze lingers on his golden companion this time, imploring, though he's certain Alaister will understand. They both need as much distance between themselves and their birth home as they can manage.

Round and round they went; circling the area no matter the different twists or turns they took. Each path led them where they were. Alaister predicts the slow, predicts the panic that rises within Nereus.
Yeah, he agrees—they couldn’t go back, nor any closer. They’ve done what they could to lose the tracks. Part of him thinks they’re being paranoid, doubting that any would care enough that they’re on the run now. Another suspects that they’ve every right to worry.
What do you wanna do? Night’s still a while off. Alaister glances from the merle wolfdog skyward—though the sun has reached it’s point of falling it won’t be night til another hour or two.

He shrugs, eyes following Alaister's. Dunno. I wish Thetis would come back, His voice turns forlorn, gaze searching the sky. He hasn't seen his companion in days. It isn't terribly unusual for her to wander, but she's never been gone for this long before. She'd lead us out of here. He turns to Alaister abruptly and buries his face into the other boy's golden scruff, sighing heavily into his fur. He goes still for a few moments, finding comfort in his friend's touch.

Yeah, I miss her too, he admits. Not just the advantage Thetis gave them, but her company in general.
It’s been the three of them since their journey away began, and after leaving his life behind, he feels a crippling loneliness—the urge to be close, warmed and cared for. Reserved he might be, yet comfortable enough he’d been within their former circle, with Proteus looking at him as if he lit the stars in the sky.
Nereus tucks near, burying his muzzle into his scruff, leaving the places he touches doused in gasoline—ready to spark at the smallest flame.
A shuddering breath escapes him.
How about a game?

The mention of a game has him pulling away, oblivious to how his touch affects his friend. What kind of game? He asks, interested despite himself. It feels like forever since he'd deemed himself too old for games, but he can't help thinking that maybe it's exactly what they both need right now. Something to lighten the mood, restore a little hope, if that can be done.

The touch goes away, and though Alaister chases it with a lean, he steadies himself a moment later. Numerous times he’s expressed his interest, yet every one leads to Nereus slipping from his fingers—Alaister could be an ass, but he’s respectful of personal space if anything.
Hm, he hums, having not thought that far ahead—it’d been a spur of the moment to distract them both. They ought to preserve their energy for the onward travel, but what worth would it be if they cannot let themselves enjoy the life they still live? To have a moment where they play and have fun.
We could play hide and seek, like old times. A simpler time. Then there were the quiet moments where their mothers wouldn’t tolerate their rough-housing and demand they sit still; they’d develop a game of cloud shapes, and came up with ridiculous personas for objects and bugs alike.

A grin spreads over his features as he considers the proposal. Alright, He agrees, amused by the idea. It's been such a long time, he's certain it'll feel ridiculous. I want to hide first. Immediately, he starts looking for suitable places to hide; it doesn't even occur to him that Alaister might not agree, or that he might not do the honest thing and look away. He doesn't think of it as serious enough to consider either; it's a trivial thing, so in his mind, it should be simple.

It’d been awhile since he’s seen Nereus grin—not the sad smile, or the weak attempt that never reached his mismatched eyes. It is nice, and steals his breath. Contagious, his own lips are upturned before he knows it.
Alright, he parrots—his eyes at first glancing to follow the immediate track that Nereus seeks, but soon enough, they fall close, and he turns away. One, a pause, two… and Alaister continues counting.