it might have been weeks, or it might have been months, but he'd already lost count of sunrise and sunset, hardly heeding its warnings of light and dark. it matters little, because the journey continues indefinitely, across grasses sprouting in dirt solid as ice and barren snow plains, over hill and root and beneath the faded canopy of once lush trees.
he can take care of himself. it is not a problem, not by any means.
until the ocean fades from view, and there are no more fish or crabs or mussels. until what he sees and hears are large creatures with kicking hooves and branching horns and a weight that he cannot take down alone. a stray thought of past companions comes to mind and is quickly forced out, ears swiveling in focus.
small prey bears the curse that most beasts do at this time: the inability to find food, competition for resources ever growing in the season, and hunting thin rabbits is not sustainable—especially not with this scent on the wind. of wolves, somewhere, more than one, and if there's anything he knows, a pack will protect its own. his presence may be a slight in itself, even just outside the border of this territory, but weariness falls, and all there is is these barren trees and muscles that ache with overexertion.
nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
he can take care of himself. it is not a problem, not by any means.
until the ocean fades from view, and there are no more fish or crabs or mussels. until what he sees and hears are large creatures with kicking hooves and branching horns and a weight that he cannot take down alone. a stray thought of past companions comes to mind and is quickly forced out, ears swiveling in focus.
small prey bears the curse that most beasts do at this time: the inability to find food, competition for resources ever growing in the season, and hunting thin rabbits is not sustainable—especially not with this scent on the wind. of wolves, somewhere, more than one, and if there's anything he knows, a pack will protect its own. his presence may be a slight in itself, even just outside the border of this territory, but weariness falls, and all there is is these barren trees and muscles that ache with overexertion.
nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
through wading grass,
the months will pass
you'll feel it all around
Yesterday, 09:45 AM
the maplewood is quiet in that winter way, sound swallowed by bark and old snow.
sega moves its edge with practiced ease, pale against the trees, when the scent reaches him. salt. long travel. hunger worn thin. not great sky.
he stops, lifts his head.
the stranger is there, halfshadowed between trunks. not charging. not hiding well either. just… worn.
sega does not bare his teeth.
he steps into view, posture tall but not pressing.
his gaze moves once over the man. the ache in the shoulders. the way hunger sits close to the bone.
sega moves its edge with practiced ease, pale against the trees, when the scent reaches him. salt. long travel. hunger worn thin. not great sky.
he stops, lifts his head.
the stranger is there, halfshadowed between trunks. not charging. not hiding well either. just… worn.
sega does not bare his teeth.
he steps into view, posture tall but not pressing.
easy,sega says gently, broken common softened further.
you not chased.
his gaze moves once over the man. the ache in the shoulders. the way hunger sits close to the bone.
you far from sea,he adds, quieter now.
that long walk.
he smells the stranger before he sees him, near blending with the snow but stark against the dark, bare trees. a scent that blends with the boundary markers along the treeline—undoubtedly a member of the pack that resides not far from these woods.
as he approaches, the traveler struggles to his feet even as unstable as he is on his legs, stiff now that he's stopped moving even for a moment.
his own posture is somewhat slouched—low, intended to be respectul, though some of it is certainly from tiredness.
it doesn't take much to tell his origins, not with the lingering scent of salt and sand and seafood clinging to his fur, even with how long it's been since he's been home. he'd not expected such a gentle tone. it momentarily takes him off guard, needing a pause before he speaks. forward, but not forceful, voice tinged with a vague accent.
A few more seconds of silence, and his head lowers, more out of fatigue than anything else.
Vague, but better words evade him.
as he approaches, the traveler struggles to his feet even as unstable as he is on his legs, stiff now that he's stopped moving even for a moment.
his own posture is somewhat slouched—low, intended to be respectul, though some of it is certainly from tiredness.
it doesn't take much to tell his origins, not with the lingering scent of salt and sand and seafood clinging to his fur, even with how long it's been since he's been home. he'd not expected such a gentle tone. it momentarily takes him off guard, needing a pause before he speaks. forward, but not forceful, voice tinged with a vague accent.
I know,spoken quietly, pale eyes fixed on the other man,
I've been walking for a long time. I don't know how long. Didn't count.
A few more seconds of silence, and his head lowers, more out of fatigue than anything else.
I came far. Searching.
Vague, but better words evade him.
I had to go.
through wading grass,
the months will pass
you'll feel it all around
sega inclines his head once, slow and understanding.
his gaze drifts back toward the valley, distant but certain.
he looks back to the pale-eyed traveler, steady.
he glanced over his shoulder, the wafting of a carcass looming close. one of angel's kills.
mm. i know that road,he says quietly.
i had to go too.
his gaze drifts back toward the valley, distant but certain.
walk long. search long. then… i stop runnin’.a small huff, almost a breath of a laugh.
this place call to me. i call it home now.
he looks back to the pale-eyed traveler, steady.
maybe road bring you somewhere too. even if you not see it yet.
he glanced over his shoulder, the wafting of a carcass looming close. one of angel's kills.
hungry?
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