Word Count :: 400+ aw, but attn jaceywacey
Over the past few days he'd gotten terribly worried. He'd tried visiting Gemma's hut within the tribe, yet he got no answer. This wasn't all that concerning at first; perhaps she'd taken the pups on a trip and forgotten to tell him, or perhaps she just didn't want to see him for a while, wanted some space...that was fine, too. Only, he'd wished she'd said something. He would have been able to sort out any problems personally, instead of being blanked like a child.
And then after a couple days, it was clear Gemma was gone, with no trace. She'd left the door open so he rudely trespassed in her house, and could not see her nor the pups. He got really worried by this point; surely she wouldn't take herself and the children away for absoloutely no reason? Sure enough, when he scanned the borders of AniWaya he picked up her scent, so he packed a bag and filled his horse's saddlebags with tinder and food and clothes, and galloped off after the scent trail his friend had left behind.
24 hours of hard riding and both he and Strider were exausted. They'd fallen back on themselves numerous times and ended up tracking the wrong wolf about twice as many times, but finally he was confident they were somewhere near where Gemma and the pups were... the only thing was, he didn't really know what to expect. Would they be injured, hurt, ... dead? He didn't really want to think about it. The cloaked and hooded rogue heeled up his horse and trotted around a narrow tree until he could see a clearing up ahead, and the scents in the air told of clearly marked borders. Why had she gone to another pack? Had she deserted AniWaya? Either way, he wanted answers. He had rights as the childrens' father, and he felt betrayed as he thought he and Gemma were getting somewhere.
Dismounting swiftly, the young man cupped his fingers to his muzzle and let out a long, calling note, his tone curious and summoning but not at all hostile. It took a lot out of him though, and he ended up putting his hands on his thighs to lean down, breathless and taking in short gasps of air that didn't sound very healthy. Strider was the same, the white stallion lathered in sweat as he gasped in the warm air.
Image courtesy of Scott Hudson **; Table by the Mentors!
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