Shallow thoughts of the art of preparing a meal more advanced than skinned and raw flesh had allowed the blonde’s feet to stray from the desired path they should be following. Perhaps he subconsciously desired to hunt down the memories left here, nearby the falls and their frosty streams. But today was no day for silvery songbirds, and the fallen Prince did not linger to search for the light foot prints of silenced creatures with broken wings. Itachi adjusted his path to bring him southwest, though he intended to keep the ocean to his far right as he slowly paced back to the well-guarded Kingdom of Thorns.
The light, white melodic purr of the nearby stream offered little but shallow, vocal company, but he didn’t ask for more. Solitude was one of his dearest friends, and there was not enough time for them to spend it together, unfortunately. The carcasses of two rabbits in the morph between spring’s brown and winter’s white dangled quite lifelessly in the male’s right hand, and he found himself pondering if he should be throwing in the white towel and find a suitable place to camp for the night. The thought was not appetising, but the bodies in his hand was becoming stiff and cold, and he wanted to skin them sooner rather than later.
Walking a decent distance from the nearby stream he had followed, he decided to make camp. Days were shorter and darted into darkness before evening set properly. Darkness had not embraced the luperci before a small fire had been gathered and lit to keep it at bay. Itachi did not fear the dark, but he needed the light to see. Fetching the short skinning knife worn in the belt under the heavy, dark coat he wore in the cooler months of the year, the blonde man started to skin rabbit number one. A voice whispered against his neck, but he lacked the desire to respond. He had never asked for this curse.
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