time to break him in. hopefully i'll make more sense in subsequent posts... xD i am so sorry this is so long. :| IT'S NOT EVEN INTERESTING hdjsahlda. but if anything is wrong lemme knooooww!
It was colder here. Aemon couldn't help but shiver as a breeze whirled past him, his arms crossed sourly across his chest, angry at himself. He should have brought warmer clothes. As it was he'd traveled light. A single backpack carried all of his essentials: a small, rusting hunting knife, a skin filled with water, a change of clothes. In the outside compartment there was a pocket-sized, worn out copy of the Bible. It was second nature to carry the book with him now, though in truth he rarely referenced it. Touching it, though, was comforting.
He must have been close; he'd been running for days. The silver coywolf had been no more than a blur behind the trees on four legs, but he'd had to slow down after nearly a full day of travel. Now, he moved on two, the scarlet fabric of his tunic and black cotton pants hardly keeping out the cold. Running had made it better, but he was tired. He'd gone on horseback from Scintilla, but was only able to borrow the steed for the first half of the journey. Aemon had returned the good-tempered horse reluctantly, and pressed on alone. Without that help, it would have taken him nearly double the time.
Aemon hoped that Ithiel was right; that this was where their father was. The sun hung low in the sky, threatening darkness. Several times he had wondered if this was a good idea, to come here. Maybe he was never meant to know Gabriel. Even his mother had been only a temporary part of his life, and he'd grown not to notice her absence. Ithiel was his brother and closest friend; he hadn't wanted to leave him, but Ithiel had needed more time. Aemon had been restless the past few months, and he'd felt an urge brewing in him. He hadn't known his father, but he'd heard whispers about his achievements, and wanted to know more. His father was a warrior, a leader, a man of God; Aemon needed to meet him, at least once.
He'd never been to Canada-- in fact, he'd never really left Utah-- and the varied wildlife and scenery had awed him. Dark coyote-ears rotated with the noises of the forest, and as a twig cracked under his feet he glanced down. The twig was connected to a larger, more stable branch. The wood was dry now, and as he broke off the tines it grew into a shapely walking stick. Please with his tool and new weapon, Aemon quickened his paces, alert for any familiar scent. He'd gone around a mountain on this day, remembering that as one of the landmarks he should recognize, but he'd yet to come across any claimed land.
His ears twitched as he hear a howl in the far distance; it was wolfish, and instantly his fur bristled, wary. Aemon moved quicker still, hoisting his backpack further onto his shoulders and taking long strides, his feet hardly touching the ground. Thick cords of dark silver hair bounced behind him in a loose ponytail, the ends smacking against his backpack in succession. Once he could see his breath forming in the cooling evening air, he slowed, turning his nose up again in search. This time, he noticed a new scent. It was ashy, salty, and something else. Familiar? Maybe... It was enough for him to change directions.
When crimson eyes finally laid eyes upon the land's markers, his mouth fell open in surprise. Lined up and shoved onto pikes along their borderline sat more skulls than he would bother to count. With a blink he realized what they were, mostly: wolf skulls. The heads of the enemy. Empty eye sockets stared out at him, and he grinned, knowing that each one had once opposed this place and lost. Already, he approved. A smoky hand reached out to caress the surface and cavities of one of the nearer ones. In an instant, pulled his hand away and glanced around, hoping that no one had seen his misdeed.
He'd finally arrived, and now was hesitant. Aemon pulled the pocket Bible from his pack and slid it into the pocket of his pants. His fingers lingered there for a moment, caressing the cover before he threw his head back and called out. A series of yips and short howl ended the message, making it clear that he was not here threateningly. Aemon's posture was tall and alert as he waited, studying the terrain and rubbing his arms for warmth. He hoped that this was worth all the trouble.
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