Even days later he was still chuckling at what he saw as irony. He’d travelled so far and long to get to the famous Bleeding Souls land that had been practically myth back home. Always talked about, held high and revered, a place where one both lost and found their hearts. His father had misplaced his there, while his uncle and aunt found theirs together. And what about him? What was here there for? He hadn’t known and as he stood amongst the ashes, Fehrris Oriel realized that he wouldn’t be finding out any time soon, if even at all. The glorious Bleeding Souls territory was now a memory, reduced to blackened ash that crumbled even more beneath his massive feet. How perfect. He’d left home for this.
Without any inclination to return to Jasper Valley, the yearling moved on – urging his travel-weary paws forward. He figured he’d stop when he found green again and perhaps find a place to settle for a while there. Fehrris was determined not to go home, for he had a point to prove. And while returning to inform his family of the death of their beloved land would have been triumphant in some ways, he was willing to feel vindicated by himself for the time being. And so – he kept walking.
That was then, and now Fehrris was busy attempting to settle himself in to a new lifestyle. His victory was short lived upon learning that the survivors of what had been a devastating fire moved on just as he had, settling again where life flourished. And so now he was with a pack, ready to begin his experiment – or in his mind, to prove something to himself.
He was currently resting beneath a large maple; mere feet away from what would soon become his new den. He had an impressive idea of what his new homes would be in his head, but was just beginning the early stages of its construction. First and foremost, he was to dig the den. He’d decided that a few hours’ work was enough to warrant a nice long break, and so he lay there, giant paws splaying out from him, tongue lolling from his mouth.