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He felt like he was a puppy again, floundering in the ocean. Waves of emotion broke over his head and sent him under, unable to reach the surface again, to reach warmth and light. He was stuck in this cold, dark void without a breath of air for his lungs, without a reprieve from the grief that had washed him out to sea in the first place. He was only a year old, and while that was a milestone for any canine’s life, that didn’t make him a grownup or able to handle everything God was tossing at him.
Hwin snorted and brought him back to the reality around him, and the boy quickly freed her reins from the twigs, which brushed along his flank as the mare stepped onward, a little more careful about browsing from the trees. The leaves whacked his face on occasion from this height, and the horse was having some issues navigating through the foliage, but Skoll wanted to go north and wanted to stick close enough to the border of the warrior pack. His meeting with Adelle had brought him comfort (although it brought him confusion now too), and he half wanted to chase after her again. He didn’t really want to do that to her, though; he needed to deal with his problems on his own without involving others too heavily.
The bay horse began to grow more frustrated with her rider’s demands as they stepped through the forest, and eventually all the steering and kicking in the world couldn’t convince her to take another step. She had been patient with him, understanding that the young captain wasn’t quite acting normal and that he needed a small break, but that patience quickly ran out. She snorted violently when he asked her to move, instead stepping backwards, and when he continued to give orders, she finally leaned to the side and pressed his leg between herself and the tree.
“Damn it, Hwin,” Skoll yelped at the heavy pressure, but she pulled away from the trunk before the press turned from painful to dangerous. He kicked at her flanks to no avail, and she flattened her ears. There was a momentary pause of disbelief at this betrayal (not realizing the betrayal on his end, too), and he finally growled, giving up.
“You know what, I don’t need you,” the blond werewolf insisted, and fell more than stepped out of the saddle. She gave him a look then removed herself from the thick of the trees, walking away slowly toward the open coast again, pausing once or twice to look back at him. He scowled and threw a stick in her direction, which sent her running off fast enough, before growling and collapsing against the tree.
All he wanted was to get away from it all—and it looked like he’d be doing so on foot.
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