smoke in the valley like morning mist
#2
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Thanks for startin', schnookums!


He certainly llked Cercatori d'Arte, relished the freedom the pack allowed; though he did not call himself a member just for the opportunity to use the back of his stone cottage as an open canvas, the ability to do so was a fine plus to being a part of the pack. He had made friends, though few, and the "Great Earth Mother," as his father and sisters would have called it, only knew the trials Micah endured in order to befriend even a single soul. Storm Lily always discouraged it; his ghost of a sister wished to keep him as her own, and whispered vicious nonsense in his ear each and every time he threatened to grow close to another.


The pepper-pelted boy had tried to talk his haunting sister into allowing him a stallion companion, but it was to no avail. A horse will help you get away, she hissed. You already left Juniper Peace and our sisters. You'll try to leave me again like everyone else did.


Guilt. Discrouragement, disappointment, guilt — but he abided by his little sister's demands.


Thus, he walked with an even gait from the packlands that day, his soul of a sister following behind. Micah spent the morning scavenging, searching as always for more paint to restock his supply, but still-functioning spray paint was scarce and hard to come by. He would travel to Halifax next, he decided, entirely by foot... his sister allowed him nothing more. Storm hissed in his ear as he stepped, exasperation about his face; soon would come the day he destroyed his father and released himself from such torment and haunting, and though he loved his little sister and would act in vengeance for she, the boy had never known such excitement for that inevitable day.


On the outskirts of the forest he moved into a clearing, chocolate eyes falling upon equally exhausted mare and were. Anxiety rushed through his veins, bothered as always to have intruded, but a worried weariness darked the girl's lovely features. He hesitated, standing there awkwardly a moment, unhearing of Storm's caustic arguments about speaking with the stranger, and with clearly shaking hands moved a little closer.


"Y-You look sad," he mumbled, fingers fidgeting with one another, long ears plastered against his skull. "You shouldn't look so sa-sad, I think y-you would look nicer if you we-were happy." Upon realizing how awkward such a sentence sounded, nervous tremors overcame his entire body, and chocolate eyes looked away, searching for an escape. "I-I like your dress... I'm s-sorry, I'll le-leave you alone, I didn't me-mean to intrude..."


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