No closer than a stranger

Ettore Russo · 03-05-2011, 05:17 AM

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Whatever whiteout overtook the outlying lonely countryside, the Italian was pleased to have fallen short of arriving at the same time the cold front did. Abundant shrouds of snow covered the Earth for traveled miles upon end, although the frequency of packed snow and ice increased the closer the vagabond approached the end of the upland. It was the type of snow where one could easily slip into delightful powder, the kind you could ball up and harmlessly toss at a mock assailant without suffering dangerous retaliation from a snowball brigade. It was that type of almost frolicsome snow to delight in, only until when the soles and pads were met with biting, hardened frost beneath the little powder there was. For as much powder and frost the lands were iced in, the Italian knew these areas didn't enjoy their moderate winter festivities this season.

The packed powder and ice was a downtempo for his pace, regardless that he didn't have any particular destination to reach in a hurry. While venturing on two legs made him grow weary from time to time, the heaviness of having to tug his half-paws, half-feet from the snow was beginning to oppress his endurance slightly. It was much better than having to clamber with four through the dipping hills of snow, but regardless he was stopped by thought-provoking structures of ruins that littered the wilderness. Skeletons of wooden foundations in perfect angles (from what wasn't covered in snow), one establishment withered and rusted, and several miscellaneous items of no importance eroded and prodding out from the ice. If there was any place in the world forgotten in time, this was the place, barren and cold.

Inquisitiveness struck, not of the history (as if it was accessible to know anyway) of reflecting upon foraging objects for any of use to him. It was the least that could be done, considering how these lands were immediately deemed as of no real interest or application. The lands marked to the south were strictly of ambiguity, undisclosed of the skull lined borders of coyote territory or the pack preaching and practicing the likes of dark magic, of voodoo. All in due time, as his concern was more for scavenging hard metal and tool-like objects in the ice, and scoping out the area in general. Wayfaring could be put on the back burner for now, since remotely any extinct human structures were at least some significant worth to inspect. To burrow into the snow sapped his tenacity even more in spite of letting alone to meddle through it, but Ettore Russo learned true diamonds were sought out in the rough.

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