As per usual, the inky Kael was patrolling the lowlands, seeking for something to occupy his attention. The sun had rolled into the sky at a leisurely pace, for the darkness was holding on much longer than it had in the warmer months. He was told this was normal—that it was a part of the seasons changing. Daylight would decrease, which meant Cyril would have limited time to explore during the day. But it did give him an opportunity to practice his night skills, so it wasn’t completely awful.

However, despite the arrival of the sun, the morning mist remained. It hung close to the ground, dreary and unsettling. He moved slowly, each step carefully calculated as he scanned his surroundings. The fog appeared to be moving in from the woods in the west, pooling into the open tundra; suffocating him. It swirled around his paws at first, cascading around his lanky legs as it rose, thickening with every step he took. A lump formed in his throat as the fur on the back of his neck stood, his brows furrowed. He wanted to turn back—to return to the monadnock where he could be above the thick fog—but he didn’t know which way was which. All around him was a thick blanket of dove grey, making it impossible for Cyril to figure out how to get home. 

He realized, as he glanced over his shoulder, that he could no longer see the towering monadnock in the distance. The fog had settled around him, making it unfeasible to navigate through the tundra, so he stopped. His toes curled into the soft terrain, his brows pinched together as he glanced around, worry weighing heavily in the pit of his stomach. The swirling mist refused to let up as it continued to thicken to a point where Cyril could barely see the tip of his nose.

His best option was to wait it out. Eventually the sun would warm up the tundra enough and the fog would dissipate. However, as far as he knew, it could have been night. How long had he been in the fog? Minutes, hours, days? What if he never found his way back to the monadnock?!

H-hello?

His head spun around, his yellow eyes falling into slits as he tried to pinpoint the location of the voice.

You lo-lost?

It couldn’t be… He blinked, frustration growing in the pit of his stomach as he stumbled backward in a feeble attempt at retracing his steps. The stuttering voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere in front of him, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t answer, his tongue laying heavy between his teeth as he continued to back up, hoping that he was distancing himself from the voice…

It had been so long since the boy had encountered the silver-eyed parasite. The time between his last encounter with the she-devil had been peaceful, but apparently the universe had other plans…

His backward steps were halted by a small, furry body. A groan was immediately expelled from his body as he turned around quickly, his yellow pools narrowed into sharp slits as the girl spoke, her familiar (annoying) voice cutting through the fog with ease. You g-got real big, Cy-Cyril! Well, duh. He was growing. So was she. Was that not what puppies did? He rolled his eyes dramatically as he took a step away from her. Out of all the wolves he could possibly encounter in the lowlands it had to be her.

Ugh.

“Yeah?” He countered, a single brow arched high into his ebony forehead as he stared down at the girl. Why was she even out here? Was the forest not good enough for little Bug? Instantly the boy thought of fleeing the scene; however, he was not entirely sure of where to go. The fog was impenetrable; he did not know west from east, or north from south. He could wander, yes, but that would most certainly guarantee that he would end up lost.