05-14-2008, 01:20 PM
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It had already been a month and a half since the fire. The minor burns he'd sustained had peeled and healed over, and the smoke had cleared from his throat and lungs. The scents of the past had faded from his body, and there was nothing left of Clouded Tears anymore. In its place, he inhaled the smell of the Dampwoods when he breathed. In all the time he had spent on this other side of the mountain, he had yet to really venture far from where he had been carried. Laruku had circled and paced and prodded the quiet corners of that territory, and now, maybe he could say he knew it pretty damn well, but he hadn't tried all that hard to commit anything to memory and still felt restlessly detached from it. This wasn't home. He wasn't sure he wanted it to be, and as long as he didn't, it wouldn't be.
Today, in the late afternoon, he found himself further west than he'd ever gone before. It had been an accident, really, but he supposed it didn't really matter how far he ended up wandering. Maybe this meant he had a higher chance of running into the packwolves that had gathered and established themselves already -- maybe this meant that he would run into someone else he had known, however briefly, on the other side of the mountain. It didn't matter. He had nothing to lose anymore and nothing could change more dramatically than it already had. What did he have to fear from finally striking out past the little stretch of woods he'd confined himself to?
The tattered hybrid wandered slowly and aimlessly through the woods, looking at nothing in particular and going no where in particular. No hope, no fear.
Arachnea's Revenge, AW.
It had already been a month and a half since the fire. The minor burns he'd sustained had peeled and healed over, and the smoke had cleared from his throat and lungs. The scents of the past had faded from his body, and there was nothing left of Clouded Tears anymore. In its place, he inhaled the smell of the Dampwoods when he breathed. In all the time he had spent on this other side of the mountain, he had yet to really venture far from where he had been carried. Laruku had circled and paced and prodded the quiet corners of that territory, and now, maybe he could say he knew it pretty damn well, but he hadn't tried all that hard to commit anything to memory and still felt restlessly detached from it. This wasn't home. He wasn't sure he wanted it to be, and as long as he didn't, it wouldn't be.
Today, in the late afternoon, he found himself further west than he'd ever gone before. It had been an accident, really, but he supposed it didn't really matter how far he ended up wandering. Maybe this meant he had a higher chance of running into the packwolves that had gathered and established themselves already -- maybe this meant that he would run into someone else he had known, however briefly, on the other side of the mountain. It didn't matter. He had nothing to lose anymore and nothing could change more dramatically than it already had. What did he have to fear from finally striking out past the little stretch of woods he'd confined himself to?
The tattered hybrid wandered slowly and aimlessly through the woods, looking at nothing in particular and going no where in particular. No hope, no fear.
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