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Anatoliy Russo · 10-30-2011, 04:01 PM

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Who the hell else am I ever going to rp with?? XD

This place was not a home. Yet. Anatoliy stared at the decrepit buildings, lips determined tight as he gripped his satchel. It was a simple moment, as he stood on the stairs to the courthouse. This was a place not yet cultivated by canine hands. It had a homey feel to it; well, it would if it was fixed up and people roamed the now empty streets. Grass was overcoming the more ramshackle buildings, weaving into the masonry and woodwork. Anann stood behind him, hand on his shoulder as he looked at what he had left their cabin for. Sighing, he turned and kissed his mate lovingly, and promised her, "I vont take too long, I am hoping." He kissed her again for good measure, letting their last touch last as long as he dared. But he was forced to walk. And he did. As much as he wanted her with him on the boat, he could not let her leave her duties behind.

He had taken only what he needed; some food and two canteens of clean water from the river. It was just a simply precaution, since it would not take more than a couple of days for him to take the boat and get it to the bay. Thankfully, he had told that redheaded tailor man that he would return to take his boat, and the man had given him permission to travel unattended to retrieve it and get it in the water. At the border, the Russo gave a loud howl, letting them know he was there, and that there was no harm meant. Hopefully, the King knew. And if not, the Dauphin would intercede. Or he better. Anatoliy took the quickest route he knew to his boat by the sea. Thankfully, he did not need to pass their old cabin or his old family house.

The water was rough and it was obvious that winter was coming in strong. Stowing his sack aboard the small vessel, the Russo found his stack of long, round logs and set them in a row under the boat. He managed to get it to the water eventually, though it took the better part of an hour, or more. As soon as boat was in the water, it was a matter of pushing it to where the bottom no longer scrapped along.

It was cold, the sea. The waves splashed against the boat, making it rock lightly. It was past his knees by the time he got the boat into deep water. The sand squelched under his clawed feet, as the water eddied around his legs. A shiver ran down his spine as he found himself pulling his heavy body into the small boat. Dripping onto the tar and sap sealed wood, the Russo managed to get the small cloth stowed in the prow, and rubbed down his legs. They were still cold, but Anatoliy could focus. It was a matter of time for him to raise the sails, and making sure that the oars were in easy reach should the weather change. But that was as likely as the sea going dead flat in December.

Now, it was just a matter of time for him to make it south and around the tip of Nova Scotia. Anatoliy knew enough about the layout of the land, having found maps. It was an easy trip, though the weather was the biggest mystery. If the wind fought him, it would easily take twice as long. But there was plenty of time for him to get there. And all that spare time was used to think. And the Russo thought long and hard as he kept a hand on the tiller. His grip was easy, his hands familiar with the process. Sailboats were common back home, and he had worked for a long time on a massive one, a great carrack or was it a koch? He could not recall. All he knew was that it had masts and massive canvas sails. All of the metal human ships were too hard to figure out. But these wooden boats, were just right. Especially with literate canines in the port cities.

Anatoliy heaved a heavy sigh, relishing the feeling of wind in his mane and glad to have the rest of his equipment on board. If he ran out of meat, there was fish to be had, and the Russo would not mind taking hours out of his day to eat and rest, but that was only if the wind worked against him all the way. And he wanted to be home to his golden mate, his Anann.

He smiled at the thought of her, already missing the feel of her. Every night, they had spent it beside one another, and it was the only reason he was easing into living in the fort. But the others were the variable. He had not sat down and talked with any of them. They were not anyone he had ever heard of. Anatoliy wanted to get to know them, but the pull of the sea was ever more powerful than the desire to socialize. In the Kingdom, he had been a rather reclusive man, and he wanted that to change here. It had to, if he was to support Anann to his fullest.

Somehow, he made it through the voyage and arrived in a matter of days, like he had promised. But his pelt was streaked with white salt and his hunger and first was starting to be noticeable; the jerky was gone and the second canteen only had a mouthful left in it. But when the shore came up, and the markers that the two of them had made to physically let him know from sea that he as home. Sighing in relief, the salt-coated hybrid forced the boat straight into the sand, and only started to stow the boat's canvas sails when it was securely forced into the beach. And then, he got into the freezing water, waist deep (he took off his pants, of course), and pushed the boat onto the drier sand. It would need to be stored somewhere for winter, and then he could work on the wood for a dock so he could tie the thing up.

Clearing his throat, and taking the last gulp of water, the Russo raised his head and called out to the woman waiting for him.

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