Nimbus Summit glacier waters melting

all welcome.

sikuliak had kept to himself after he and his aama had made the journey home.  it was difficult to reach out; he had experienced things in the wild that set him apart.  in neither language did he have the words to describe them, or the desire to give them life by doing the work to describe them. yet time marched ever onwards.  memories faded.

there had been an acclimation period.  it had not come together all at once.  things rarely do.  yet there was a life force within him that whispered, you will make something of yourself.  

he was almost a year old now.  

aimlessly, he wandered the summit.  he knew he was lucky to have two parents, good parents, who meant all the world to him and more.  but he could not settle here, it brought him no comfort.  it didn't feel like home.  maybe no place ever had.  he could barely remember the glacier, and now . . .

leaving had crossed his mind more than once.  but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his parents.

with a sigh, he turned his head to the sky, finding the position of the sun to count the hours until evening when he could search the stars for answers he knew they would not provide.

There was a butterfly.

She wandered after it, hobbling slightly on her scarred leg. It continued to flutter out of her reach, it’s bright wings stark against the sky. Faun gave a little skip-hop, bouncing up to nip harmlessly at the edges of the insect’s wings.

It fluttered further out of her reach.

She tittered a giggle, soft and under her breath, nearly stumbling over herself in her landing. It was only then that her antiquated eyes spotted another wolf.

Young. Near her age, if a little younger. He was watching the sky. She stopped her playing immediately, fumbling over her long legs, but managing to keep her footing. The butterfly, apparently having taken fun in the chase too, decided to come back to land upon her nose. Oh no. Her nose scrunched, ears swiveling back towards her neck as her eyes crossed to stare at the winged insect.

Her nose twitched.

The butterfly flicked its antennae.

Ach-oo!

She shook her head as the butterfly flew away from her nostrils, trying to keep her composure after such a sneeze.

he hadn't realized that someone had been watching until — danger! — the sound she released caused him to turn about-face, ears perked high, hackles rippling as he sought the source.  when he saw her he felt foolish.  he corrected course, adjusting himself to appear casual and undisturbed.

when he looked at her closely, he saw her gashed foreleg.  the scars that around his hindquarters pulsed in response.  she was about his age, but small like his mother. 

hello.

Faun blinked at the boy, looking over his oddly splotched coat.

Why, he looked like one of her sisters!

Her eyes traveled from his coat to his scars, briefly, then back to his face. She offered a sheepish little smile.

Hell-Hello.

she speaks softly, which he takes as an invitation to drop language altogether.  he steps closer, ears pulling forward first, then backwards in invitation.

he gestures over his shoulder, towards the border, where he intends to show her veteran's favorite stargazing spot, if she would take his company.

He does not speak.

Good. Talking still feels odd, it made her throat twist and tighten, as though her vocal chords themselves did not wish to speak of where she had come from.

Not that she wanted to speak it.

He motioned, and she nodded, easily falling into step after the boy.