Permafrost Hollows the preponderance of objects

Summer came and went. Unlike the creatures of the Wilds, the boy had sought a harder lifestyle as the world warmed. He had moved north beyond the bracken wood - delving as far as he dared while honing his body, testing himself in every way imaginable. Days rolled in to weeks. Through it all, Revui's mind was focused on his lessons: memories of Hydra running the slopes of his mountain home, or combat practice with Arcturus, hunting with Amekaze, or the lessons of Charon; he knew, somehow, to return when the leaves began to show more red than green. As the last of the northern forests became shrouded in murky reds and browns (like the drying of blood, he found himself thinking), Revui returned south.

Overhead was a flying vee of snow geese, their calls helping him keep pace with their migration for a while; he pushed himself as much as he dared, but eventually lost sight of their silhouettes to the dying of the summer light. The bracken wood came and went around him. When there was nothing but the stale scent of hay where the grass once grew tall and wild, he knew he'd crossed back in to the Teekon; perhaps not by name (as nobody had ever labelled this region as far as he could remember), but somehow by feeling.

He looked to the sprawling starlight overhead and let his whims guide him, at least until another forest beckoned - and Revui passed in to the hollow where the scent of autumn dominated, along with signs of a potential meal. The graze-lines of the forest's edge were worn thin, and he could not help but feel elated at his good fortune. He would make a game of hunting down a mule deer - provided his good fortune held out.