D: This post suuucksss. But yay for reunions! / +5
Ephraim might have declined on the offer to join Cercatori d’Arte, but that didn’t mean he would not visit his friend as he’d promised. In fact, he still simply wasn’t certain where he belonged; for all he knew, AniWaya was where he was supposed to stay since he’d been captured there. Until he learned to fit into the Tribe a little more, and until he started actually paying attention to the politics going on, he couldn’t be sure where his home would be.
All he knew right now is that he wanted to see Sky.
Leaving the Tribe had been simple—few knew he even existed. Those that did didn’t care enough about him to stop him, and it wasn’t like pack wolves didn’t leave their own territories for various purposes. Still, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder a few times as he loped away from the borders. In the aftermath of the battle, he couldn’t have known what was happening or what the fate of the leadership of AniWaya was.
That was the dark thought hanging over his head as he sniffed the borders of Cercatori d’Arte. He’d wanted to bring Sky some news, some triumphant declaration that Big Daddy Maska was dead, but he couldn’t. All he knew was that the Tribe was beginning to recover, and normal members were happily herding their kids around and helping rebandage each other’s wounds.
A sudden, overpowering scent of flowers drowned out that of whichever wolf had last marked the borders. He lifted his head and briefly tossed the faded aqua-colored poncho off his lupus shoulders, taking some time to let his limbs lengthen and his back straighten vertically as he shifted into an optime form. Putting the cloth back on, he took a step forward, white paw touching the invisible edge of the border. What lay beyond?
Eventually, the eunuch crossed over the borders, not without pausing and tilting his head back to howl. It wasn’t the same roar that had been his battlecry when they were in the cottage, but hopefully Sky would be in the vicinity to recognize it. If not, he would be in a deal of trouble—but he’d been captured and imprisoned once, so he wasn’t one much to care.
He finally reached the source of the flowery smells, and his brown eyes widened. A grin slowly tugged back at his dark lips as he stared at the multitude of flowers that covered the field. Some had faded with the cooler weather, others taken perhaps by frost, but the rainbow of colors showed the tenacity of the plants that might even make it into winter.
He knelt and ran his fingers over a velvety leaf, moving on to touch the soft petals and plucking one of the flowers. He gave it a sniff, smiling again. If the rest of d’Arte was this gorgeous, he might have to take Sky back up on her offer.
Twirling the flower stem briefly between his fingers, he let out another howl: the greeting of a friend.
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