01-19-2010, 02:10 AM
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1260
Family Reunions are so touching, aren't they?
Somehow he was back in Halifax, wondering through a city that only caused more pings of homesickness inside of his heart. Anatoliy had come here by the seagoing ship Atlentichiskaya Devetchka, the Atlantic Girl, entirely by accident. Wandering away from Sobrit'sya, the Russian yearling had traveled with his mother to try to find his father and brothers in Europe. Even then, in the not so foreign city of St. Petersburg, the boy meandered away from the side of his dotting mother. Lost in the once terribly magnificent port city, Toliy was forced to find himself a place to sleep. In the morning, he woke to find himself surrounding on all sides by water, with land a small smudge in the distance. Emerging from the storage area of the seafaring vessel, the Russo discovered that the ship was bound for the Americas, to trade in the warmer Caribbean. He also learned that they had gone too far from St. Petersburg to turn back, as their own cargo would be late, and suffer the damages that time did to foodstuffs. The voyage was long and perilous, but Anatoliy knew that there was no going back. This was an excuse to get away from Russia, from his large family. But that meant leaving behind his mother, with no way of letting her know that her last son was alive and well. The guilt was enormous, but the half coyote, half wolf took the chance.
On board the ship he had certainly pulled his weight. His Russo genetics made him strong enough to help maintain the canvas sheets and ropes needed to keep the ship moving at the best speed it could. Anatoliy had scrubbed the deck every few days with the other younger shipmates, working hard for his daily food. He may have been an accidental stow-away, but he would not let them put their noses up at him for it. They sympathized and marveled that he was dedicated to his honor and dignity. The first week of the voyage, the Russian had felt soreness like no other. Not even helping on the family's fishing craft compared to the cross-Atlantic ocean vessel's work needed. Paws blistered, sore, and red were a stinging reminder of the way the male was back home. There he had not yet truly settled on being a deep sea fisherman like the majority of the males, and the one woman. He helped out everywhere; the boats, the kitchens, the studies, the nursery, everywhere. The adults tittered at him, telling the yearling to pick a job and stick to it. But he wanted to be sure, to not hate what he was going to do till the day he got too old to pull in long, heavy nets or stir a large spoon, or take care of things. It was probably why he had ended up traveling with his coyote mother when she offered, eager to see what else the world could offer him. His shipmates were awed by his willingness to do anything they asked of him, though a lot of it he could not do well. Anatoliy was not glum about it; he simply moved on.
He thanked them for dropping him off and letting him take part in their supplies, but they had claimed that he had worked for it and an extra pair of hands was always going to get fed. Those traders had stopped here once they had reached the continent, though they had only dropped him off with the bare necessities. Just some dried meat from their rations, which he gladly took of course. Scavenging in a city was not really his style, as he was not used to it. Raised in a large established family that all provided for one another helped to prevent the need for the boy to go looking for the things he needed. There a few bare necessities he needed to find if he wanted to at least be comfortable in a strange new place with nary a familiar face. He even managed to scavenge out a blanket to use for sleeping, as well as an abandoned apartment with a dusty couch, table, and even a lumpy old mattress still good enough to use. Anatoliy had been there for a scant five days and already felt himself established in the town. The windows of his new home, which he hoped would be temporary, looked out to the sea. He gazed out the window of it the first few days, hoping to see that same ship returning home and hopefully able to pick him up if he managed to catch sight of them in time. After the last day, though, he gave up.
Now he was stuck, alone, in this place. There were no other souls in the area that he had found, but he had gone out of his way to avoid everyone. The language he saw on the peeling, fading billboards told him he would have a rather hard time here. English was not his strong suit, nor was he very confident in even attempting anything in the tongue. Russian was what he knew best and that was what he preferred to use even in a foreign land. The wolves here would probably not know it, though, so Anatoliy was stuck somewhere in the middle. However, avoiding contact with others had helped him, certainly. He was in his lupine form, wandering through the streets of an abandoned human city. His mind flew back across the sea, to his mother, to the Russos living in a fishing town who he loved and cherished. What would become of him here? How would he survive? He knew he would need to find someone, anyone, to help him. A life alone and on the foot was not something he knew how to handle, though had always dreamed of it, ever since his father and siblings had left him with Verusha.
A sound echoed from an empty, derelict street to his left and the Russian skipped a bit before getting into a jog away from the area. He was terribly jumpy here, unaware of what could be around the corner. There was nothing to really be afraid of here. The boy had inherited his wolf family's height, weight, and size. Very little should startle him, but there could be things here in North America that Europe and Russia simply did not have. He did not want to encounter bears, which he knew he could, from what the books the family had owned told him. Bears would kill him. Just a single one could easily. Even if a bear had wandered into a city as large as Halifax, he doubted it would get far without the customary sounds echoing for half a mile to the wolf's ears.
Anatoliy gave a sigh, putting his back to a wall as his body shifted into something far more flexible and mobile than the one he was born in. His dark brown main was short, spiky, still, though his bangs were longer, coming down to the corners of his eyes in small portions. Amber eyes opening, for they had been shut before, rose to stare at the sky peaking out between buildings, shining in the remaining glass windows in the rises. Somewhere he would find someone, who could understand him, or at least help teach him to improve his English in leaps and bounds. Of course, that would only be when he was tired of living in solitude, hiding from everyone, and missing his home like no other.
Family Reunions are so touching, aren't they?
Somehow he was back in Halifax, wondering through a city that only caused more pings of homesickness inside of his heart. Anatoliy had come here by the seagoing ship Atlentichiskaya Devetchka, the Atlantic Girl, entirely by accident. Wandering away from Sobrit'sya, the Russian yearling had traveled with his mother to try to find his father and brothers in Europe. Even then, in the not so foreign city of St. Petersburg, the boy meandered away from the side of his dotting mother. Lost in the once terribly magnificent port city, Toliy was forced to find himself a place to sleep. In the morning, he woke to find himself surrounding on all sides by water, with land a small smudge in the distance. Emerging from the storage area of the seafaring vessel, the Russo discovered that the ship was bound for the Americas, to trade in the warmer Caribbean. He also learned that they had gone too far from St. Petersburg to turn back, as their own cargo would be late, and suffer the damages that time did to foodstuffs. The voyage was long and perilous, but Anatoliy knew that there was no going back. This was an excuse to get away from Russia, from his large family. But that meant leaving behind his mother, with no way of letting her know that her last son was alive and well. The guilt was enormous, but the half coyote, half wolf took the chance.
On board the ship he had certainly pulled his weight. His Russo genetics made him strong enough to help maintain the canvas sheets and ropes needed to keep the ship moving at the best speed it could. Anatoliy had scrubbed the deck every few days with the other younger shipmates, working hard for his daily food. He may have been an accidental stow-away, but he would not let them put their noses up at him for it. They sympathized and marveled that he was dedicated to his honor and dignity. The first week of the voyage, the Russian had felt soreness like no other. Not even helping on the family's fishing craft compared to the cross-Atlantic ocean vessel's work needed. Paws blistered, sore, and red were a stinging reminder of the way the male was back home. There he had not yet truly settled on being a deep sea fisherman like the majority of the males, and the one woman. He helped out everywhere; the boats, the kitchens, the studies, the nursery, everywhere. The adults tittered at him, telling the yearling to pick a job and stick to it. But he wanted to be sure, to not hate what he was going to do till the day he got too old to pull in long, heavy nets or stir a large spoon, or take care of things. It was probably why he had ended up traveling with his coyote mother when she offered, eager to see what else the world could offer him. His shipmates were awed by his willingness to do anything they asked of him, though a lot of it he could not do well. Anatoliy was not glum about it; he simply moved on.
He thanked them for dropping him off and letting him take part in their supplies, but they had claimed that he had worked for it and an extra pair of hands was always going to get fed. Those traders had stopped here once they had reached the continent, though they had only dropped him off with the bare necessities. Just some dried meat from their rations, which he gladly took of course. Scavenging in a city was not really his style, as he was not used to it. Raised in a large established family that all provided for one another helped to prevent the need for the boy to go looking for the things he needed. There a few bare necessities he needed to find if he wanted to at least be comfortable in a strange new place with nary a familiar face. He even managed to scavenge out a blanket to use for sleeping, as well as an abandoned apartment with a dusty couch, table, and even a lumpy old mattress still good enough to use. Anatoliy had been there for a scant five days and already felt himself established in the town. The windows of his new home, which he hoped would be temporary, looked out to the sea. He gazed out the window of it the first few days, hoping to see that same ship returning home and hopefully able to pick him up if he managed to catch sight of them in time. After the last day, though, he gave up.
Now he was stuck, alone, in this place. There were no other souls in the area that he had found, but he had gone out of his way to avoid everyone. The language he saw on the peeling, fading billboards told him he would have a rather hard time here. English was not his strong suit, nor was he very confident in even attempting anything in the tongue. Russian was what he knew best and that was what he preferred to use even in a foreign land. The wolves here would probably not know it, though, so Anatoliy was stuck somewhere in the middle. However, avoiding contact with others had helped him, certainly. He was in his lupine form, wandering through the streets of an abandoned human city. His mind flew back across the sea, to his mother, to the Russos living in a fishing town who he loved and cherished. What would become of him here? How would he survive? He knew he would need to find someone, anyone, to help him. A life alone and on the foot was not something he knew how to handle, though had always dreamed of it, ever since his father and siblings had left him with Verusha.
A sound echoed from an empty, derelict street to his left and the Russian skipped a bit before getting into a jog away from the area. He was terribly jumpy here, unaware of what could be around the corner. There was nothing to really be afraid of here. The boy had inherited his wolf family's height, weight, and size. Very little should startle him, but there could be things here in North America that Europe and Russia simply did not have. He did not want to encounter bears, which he knew he could, from what the books the family had owned told him. Bears would kill him. Just a single one could easily. Even if a bear had wandered into a city as large as Halifax, he doubted it would get far without the customary sounds echoing for half a mile to the wolf's ears.
Anatoliy gave a sigh, putting his back to a wall as his body shifted into something far more flexible and mobile than the one he was born in. His dark brown main was short, spiky, still, though his bangs were longer, coming down to the corners of his eyes in small portions. Amber eyes opening, for they had been shut before, rose to stare at the sky peaking out between buildings, shining in the remaining glass windows in the rises. Somewhere he would find someone, who could understand him, or at least help teach him to improve his English in leaps and bounds. Of course, that would only be when he was tired of living in solitude, hiding from everyone, and missing his home like no other.