There was a time when I was alone
Nowhere to go and no place to call home
My only friend was the man in the moon
And even sometimes he would go away, too
- Ruth B, Lost Boy
January 18th; Early afternoon, just before sundown; Patchy moderate snow; 18 ° F, -8 ° C.
Rook had risen that morning with a mind to finally wander the trails and take into account just who was still around. Clearly Yvly and Veho were here; as well as Pip, Tomen, and Nineva. Felix, he now knew was about, exploring on his own agenda now that he had reached that point in his young life where he still needed guidance but not the constant supervision of an adult or appointed cub-sitter. The girls, Joan and Ophelia, and their mother - Rook was also sure - were about. The more the thought about it as he walked towards the one place he knew he could find some sort of inner peace, the more he figured he'd ask someone later - who remained, who had left, who returned...
Snow began to fall. It gathered in the boughs above and what little bit of snow fell through the tangle of cedar and fir branches, settled on the forest floor. It covered Rook's tracks and dusted the wolf-made highways with a fresh blanket of frost. Then, when Rook had finally come to where his older brothers had been laid to rest, it gathered in his coat too as he sat in perfect silence before the cluster of two large boulders and a spindly fallen fir sapling.
When the Lyall bowed his snow-crowned head, he did not pray as he once did. Instead, he sought to become as silent as the rest of Relic Lore around him. The reason why he had come here instead of where his father had been buried was this: he hoped to receive an answer for the coming Spring and what the thaw might bring him if he proved himself worthy. What Rook believed to be Theo and Prosper's Lore-bound spirits had never disappointed. Once thought of as real angels or as close to saints as a pseudo-Christian wolf might believe, their littlest brother was so certain that they would give him a clue. They had always given him an answer; surely a little snow wouldn't have deterred them.