Redtail Rise Enter, pursued by a memory.

When @Tux asked that he accompany him on a trip beyond the territory borders, Dacio wanted to refuse. He'd always been a homebody, too much of a mama's boy to stray too far from Portia's careful watch. Those past few days following the unexpected disruption of their pack and family, he'd seen nothing of her. It wasn't that he didn't want to, that he didn't try, but she seemed to have secluded herself entirely. His most recent check-in at all her usual haunts just that morning struck his heart with a whole new fear, as her scent had begun to grow stale.

"I don't think she's coming back," the young Gona confessed after a long, uncomfortably silent pause during which he encouraged himself to admit his worries out loud. He hung his head, dark ears splayed back as he exhaled a sigh, reflecting on the last time he spent in her company. Dacio had turned away from her then, so overwhelmed by the hurt and frustration his litter-mate had caused, and hated himself for not taking care of her as he should have.

Blinking, he lifted his solemn eyes from staring at the shape of his cousin's pawprints in the snow, and realised that Tux probably didn't know what he was talking about. He swallowed the guilt, for he realised he had no clue if the bi-coloured Kru had previously said something that he'd been unable to hear over his own troubled thoughts. "Sorry," he added, "my, uh... my mother. I haven't seen her since..." He hunched his shoulders and pressed on, frowning deeply to himself as he peered ahead at the mountain that loomed before them.

*creaks* ahh i'm sorry

He had been too caught up in his own turmoil to notice Portia's departure.  He had never been particularly close with the fisa; truth be told, he wasn't sure if he had ever even met her.  The grief of others was not something he knew how to deal with either.  His ears faltered to the sides, and he forced himself to look his cousin in the face.  Mine isn't, either.

His voice is flat, but it fails on the last syllable and he swallows thickly.  It would be easier to forget that Wildfire and Kiwi and Sequoia ever existed, and he'd been doing a pretty good job of it, too, but it was still fresh enough that he knew how it felt in the first hours and days after he'd realized and he wasn't about to blow Dacio off.  Maybe it was meant to be this way.  Because if he thought that, it'd be easier to accept that it was out of his control.  If he thought that, it wasn't his fault.

His eyes drew up to the mountain they approached, and he tested his paws against the snow.  It wasn't terribly slick, but if they wanted to climb it they'd have to find a reasonable trail.

He felt Tux gaze at the side of his face, and for a moment he was reluctant to meet his gaze. Swallowing, the young Gona tantatively lifted his head to make eye contact with his cousin and blinked sadly. The other youth's expression was almost blank, his words hollow, but Dacio doubted the pain he felt in Portia's absence would be likely to fade anytime soon. Tux might simply be better practiced in masking his sorrow.

"You could be right," he said, though it pained him to wonder if his own dam had willingly chosen the path of natrona, as Wildfire had. Dacio's jaw tightened, his brow furrowing at the thought of being dubbed the son of a traitor, and was content to pad along their intended path in contemplative silence.

He tried to focus on the chill of his paws to distract him from the anxiety that quickened his heartrate, but the ache of his toes was mild compared to the dull throb in his chest. Dacio had never made a secret of adoring his mother, who'd loved and supported his every decision, so to have her disappear without a trace was torture. "I just... don't know what to think," he added after a short time, huffing through flared nostrils as he looked up at the snow-capped peak before them. "I don't think she'd go without saying something, to someone." But he'd though Dalia and Sequoia would never leave, either. He frowned deeply. Perhaps it would be wiser to trust no one but himself; it always seemed that it was those closest that hurt him most.

Tux didn't have much advice, and so the pair maintained an uncomfortable silence as they continued along their path toward the slopes of Redtail Rise.