08-06-2012, 04:08 PM
Itzal stopped in the middle of the road, standing up right on two legs. He had forgotten how normal it felt to walk like this. Since he had left Nova Scota the second time, he hadn't been in his Optime form until he had found his Uncle's pack. He was still adjusting back. He looked around at the stone buildings. Dozens of the lay in ruin and the ones that didn't were few and far between. He started walking again, feeling the stone road beneath his feet. It felt weird to be back here, like some distant memory he was reliving.
He didn't understand why he was drawn back to this place. He had left, twice now, and each time he had returned. Why couldn't he just leave these stone streets behind? Why couldn't he just keep wandering? Did he still want to settle down? At this rate he wasn't sure if that was even possible. But what was stopping him this time. His ties to his old life were gone. And even as Itzal had thought that his paw traced the scar the traveled from the top of his left shoulder across his neck. What was stopping him from trying, just one more time?
Itzal continued walking. This city had a few memories for him. Ones of Axelle, his friend who he had left behind, his knives and earrings had been collected from this city, and if he looked hard enough, he might find the makeshift grave of the rat Axelle had buried. But he didn't look. He just kept walking on those stone streets, hoping this time it would grant him more than just memories.
He didn't understand why he was drawn back to this place. He had left, twice now, and each time he had returned. Why couldn't he just leave these stone streets behind? Why couldn't he just keep wandering? Did he still want to settle down? At this rate he wasn't sure if that was even possible. But what was stopping him this time. His ties to his old life were gone. And even as Itzal had thought that his paw traced the scar the traveled from the top of his left shoulder across his neck. What was stopping him from trying, just one more time?
Itzal continued walking. This city had a few memories for him. Ones of Axelle, his friend who he had left behind, his knives and earrings had been collected from this city, and if he looked hard enough, he might find the makeshift grave of the rat Axelle had buried. But he didn't look. He just kept walking on those stone streets, hoping this time it would grant him more than just memories.