Phoenix Maplewood that the vicious cycle was over

tags for reference or for joining! otherwise, all welcome! <3

the further they get from the mountains, from rivenwood or whatever remains of it, there is a slight leech of tension from his shoulders. though @Amadeo had been in bad shape, ezra cannot help but look over his shoulder fearing the dark pelaged man will follow them.

no, not them. her. his infatuation with his mother would be his driving force, if he did decide to track them down.

but @Skaigona doesn't bring him up and neither does ezra.

his focus is singular.

find @Anselm and @Gideon. or find answers.

his steps falter as he nears the edge of the maplewoods, knowing he should loop back around and reunite with his mother. soon. the restlessness that had taken root in ezra makes him eager to jump the gun, to go and go and go until his paws were cracked and bloodied.

he hangs his head for a moment, blowing out a breath before his gaze lifts first and then his head, a glimpse spared over his shoulder.

Cambria plodded around the rise despite the misty rain, mulling something @Mulherin had mentioned in passing. Many wolves were gathering soon to hunt and feast together. The yearling was torn. He didn’t like the idea of hunting with outsiders, yet think of all the things he could learn! And @Etienne might be in attendance. On the other hand, their numbers were few and it just didn’t seem like an ideal time to leave the rise unattended.

No, he told himself, pale tail flicking as he found himself back at his starting point at the southeastern corner of the rise. You have to stay here, Cambria coaxed his conscience, amending, Well… close, as he spotted the silhouette of a young doe against the moraine.

By the time he closed the distance, she had bounded well out of reach. Nevertheless, the yearling sought the place where she’d stood, reading what details he could from her spoor. Her trail stayed parallel to the glacial path, headed southwest. Cambria didn’t move that way, looking instead toward the forest over yonder.

The leaves were red as blood now that fall had come to the wilderness. Cambria admired them from afar, thinking of course of Etienne. He prepared to turn after a moment to head home, though something captured his attention. His mismatched eyes squinted through the gloomy air, snaring on a flash of orange, only to widen an instant later when he realized he was looking at a wolf.

It was hard to judge from a distance, though the Dragonling muttered, Can’t be much older than Ruckus, who he missed and thought of often.

With that thought in mind, he began loping toward the youthful figure, taking care to issue a friendly bark as he went.

the stranger that approaches with a friendly bark is not anselm or gideon. disappointment is a constant companion to ezra on days like this, despite knowing that the likelihood of him stumbling across either his father or his brother by wandering neutral territories was slim. he didn't even know which way they had gone. he could be heading towards one but in the opposite direction of the other ... or the opposite direction of both of them.

or —

he shuts that thought down before it can even begin to form.

he felt like a broken record asking strangers if they'd seen either of them but maybe, just maybe someone might offer him a lead.

even a crumb was more than he and his mother had to go on at the moment.

hey, ezra greets, unable to help but stare at the man's mismatched gaze. are you from around here? he asks without preamble.

The youngster’s direct question caught him off guard. Cambria’s head reared back in surprise, though he didn’t mind the question. It was just that Ruckus—and the Tuesdays too—had never wanted much to do with him. And they had never willingly talked to him, if they were even capable of it.

I live on the rise, he said, rolling to a stop and pointing with his pale snout. That one there. His eyes flicked back to the younger male, assessing him now that they were up close and personal. My name is Cambria. What’s yours?

He looked rather thin, though perhaps it was simply the lankiness of youth and not because he was underfed. Cambria wondered if his parents were nearby or if he was out here traveling on his own for some reason. In fact, he had many questions, though as ever, the Dragonling measured his words carefully whilst waiting for his acquaintance to speak.

cambria. lives on the rise.

ezra's gaze follows the motion of cambria's muzzle, but finds that the territory holds no familiarity to him. not that, truthfully, he expects it to. this was the first time he's ever left rivenwood ... and the circumstances all around were so tragic that he wasn't even able to enjoy the adventure.

ezra. he offers simply, not bothering to say where he was from. it didn't matter anymore. he was from no where; ashamed to claim he was from rivenwood after what he believes to be it's decline.

i'm looking for my brother gideon and father anselm. do either of those names sound familiar to you?

Ezra gave his name, then posed a question that repressed whatever Cambria had been about to say next. Neither name sounded familiar—he shook his head regretfully—but there was some measure of relief in realizing this young man was hopefully only momentarily lost. Perhaps father and sons had become separated on a hunting trip or something like that.

No, I can’t say I know them. When and where did you last see them? Cambria asked, happy to help reunite the wayward Ezra with his family if he could.

another no.

while not surprising, each time he is met with the same answer a little piece of his hope suffocates in his chest. his shoulders sag a bit as the atlas-esque weight grows a little bit heavier.

a sigh pushes itself past ezra's lips, drawing another wincing grimace as it the wounds throb, knowing that despite each no he's came across he will keep looking. refusing to stop until he finds them; believing that with them is where he and his mother belonged.

a vhile ago, ezra admits, ears slicking back to rest at half mast atop his skull. his disappointment sours into anger. at himself, at amadeo, at druid, at his wounds, at that stupid wolverine. my mother and i have been searching for them for some time.

my father vas injured. may still be healing. i ... don't know about my brother. he may not even be vith him. at this point, ezra was going off of little more than sheer hope and a prayer.

The first words out of Ezra’s mouth put a damper on his hopes. His father and brother had been missing for quite some time, by the sound of it, and may not even be together. The dad’s injury threw another wrench at the situation.

Where did you last see them? he repeated, voice gentle. And can you describe them to me?

Once he gave the youngster an opportunity to do that, Cambria fell into a ponderous silence for a few beats. The wind ruffled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of early autumn, and the yearling’s eyes raised aimlessly to the reddening treetops.

You said your mother is with you? I’m glad to hear that, at least. Are the two of you staying anywhere in particular? Like, if I come across them, where should I direct them?

ezra is met with a wave of deja-vu, being met with the same answers and the same questions. no, what do they look like? and wonders if he'll ever be met with anything else. it whittles away at the hope that keeps burning in his chest. each time, that flame gets a little smaller and smaller as if being starved of oxygen. still, somehow, it holds on.

the gentleness of the other man's voice makes him feel small ... and he immediately hates it, despite that ezra can recognize it as kindness. it's what keeps the instinctual frostbite out of his tone as he replies, a month. almost two, now.

my father is ash grey vith dark grey markings. his eyes are gold like mine. his left and right ears are torn. one of them is in half ... and he has an accent like mine. even if that statement was in fact reversed and ezra picked up his father's accent as it'd been anselm's first. and my brother is dark grey vith light grey markings. gold eyes like mine ... and two tails. you vill know them when you see them.

it helps, he tells himself, that they have distinctive markers like that. there would be no mistaking either of them if any of the wolves he and his mother had met and inquired about them to did come across them.

uh, not any place in particular, ezra admits, a bit sheepishly. ve're making a circle around then taiga and the valley. but i cannot say ve vill stay there and not move on into other regions if ve don't find them...

it was a complicated situation all around.