Turtleback Lake I lost before I started

@Kjors let's say it's making light rain :I

Even the strongest of minds had their breaking points. How much longer, he had started to wonder, was he supposed to go on looking? How far was he supposed to travel in hopes of locating his father? These were questions that could not be answered by anyone but his own mind and body, but they were at ends with each other. While his body, small in the first place, and now dirtied, slender and frail, was screaming at him to stop, his mind roared at him to keep moving. One more day. One more hill. One more step.

Stop. His body had at last won out and convinced his mind to take a break, a ploy to which his mind only agreed because of the dryness on his tongue. The scent of water and the sight of a lake were more than a welcome occurrence. Though on-and-off rain through the day had helped wash some of the dirt and mud from a once-pristine white pelt, he was in dire need of something more thorough.

There was always a risk of course. The day was growing darker, quicker every time. Bathing now ran the risk of a chill if he couldn't dry off by night, but a famished mind knew no common sense. Hunger and thirst had started to take effect on his head, disregarding any thought of freezing in favour of rolling at the waters edge. Loud and careless, splashing as his limbs flung about and his torso twisted in the shallows. Reckless even, the noise was bound to draw some kind of attention, sounding like a school of beached fish.

He needed it though, both for his pelt and the joints in all corners that were starting to wear down with each day of thoughtless travel. Cold water or not, at least for the time being, he felt somewhat at comfort, far northern stock content to bask in the chill of what would no doubt become that much colder as winter drew nearer. Perhaps he would stay here, hunker down for the harsher season. In his prime he was better equipped to deal with it than most, but this... this was far from his prime.

What in the world would his father think, if he found him in this state.

It was supposed to be easier to fish when it rained. At least, that’s what the wolf had been told once in his travels. He’d been far from home, or maybe he hadn’t a home at that point (it was becoming difficult to remember where he’d been or who’d become on these days, with five years of memories playing vividly in his mind), and he’d been hungry. It was raining, because of course it was raining, but an older male had shown him how to fish. It was easier when the weather was poor, the man explained (and he probably had a name, but far be it from Kjors to remember a wolf who’d only offered a bit of advice), for the ripples on the surface of the pond created a visual barricade – his prey would not flee so easily, for their own source of food was also weighted down by drops. With the insects flailing against the surface of the water, no sun to cast shadows, and plenty of ripples to disguise any a wolf might create on his own, it was a fine set up for a fishy feast.

Of course, it all sounded very good in theory. @Karinaliked fish, and the notion of being able to score a bundle of fish before Relic Lore turned into a mirror image of Jotunheim was indeed a very pleasant one. What the wolf hadn’t counted on was the weather being so deplorable…which was a bit foolish, given that it was pouring when he started. While the rain had given way a bit, a breeze had picked up, and oh how he’d forgotten what a cold, autumn rain storm could feel like. Standing in the lake, the chill ran up and down his spine, damp all the way to the core as he studied the surface. Something else he’d yet to count on: most insects had been killed in the freeze the week past, when the snow began to fall.

Behind him stood a small pile of perch – his winnings, as it were. The larger fish seemed too clever for this ruse, at least today. Or perhaps they’d already gone to sleep? Not the same, eternal rest his perch pile had been forced into as they slowly asphyxiated, but perhaps things like bass or trout when into hibernation, like a squirrel, or a bear. A curious thought, the wolf decided, though he had no way of testing it out, short of diving into the water and searching for the missing fish under the surface.

“Ugh,” he grumbled at the thought. After a moment, he’d decided he’d had enough, and turned out from the water, shaking his pelt as he went. The winter was coming, he thought as he glanced at the angry sky, like the waves crash on the sand, like a storm that will break any second. He had to bring these back – perhaps tomorrow the weather would be much the same, and he could return, finding more fish for the princess’ cache.

About to gather up his perch, the male stopped when he realized he’d been joined, at some point, by a young wolf. Hackles went up and he growled softly, maneuvering his body over his pile. “Whaddya want?”

Standard pro-tip = hover for plain english

Somewhere along the way he'd managed to find himself encroaching on the space of an unfamiliar body, and whether it was the fatigue in his head or the sound of his splashing that left him unaware of his wrongdoing was bound to make little difference in the eyes... or eye... of a potential enemy. It was important if nothing else - and the voice of his father echoed in his mind as the thoughts rolled through subconsciously before he'd even had a chance to catch sight of the other male, to tread carefully. Choose the right words and say the right things. He was still young, and shamefully small. Hardly the type that was capable of standing up to a larger and more practised male, much less an entire pack.

With a rather violent motion he shook his body, only after stepping free from the waters of the lake, to dry himself of the quickly chilling waters that clung to every strand. The outcome was almost comical, a fluffed-out but much cleaner looking mass of Arctic fur with little more than the black of his nose and eyes to distinguish any kind of features. With that nonsense taken care of, twisting ears and searching eyes went on the hunt for the source of an unfriendly growl.

A neutral stance offered little in the way of a reaction, but acidic eyes remained relatively averted from the leering of the other. Again, it wasn't in his nature, or within his ability to go around fighting. Filled out by fur in the moment, his frame beneath was slimming by the day. Still as he observed the reason for such an unkindly greeting, his stomach took no interest in such small fish, regardless of how long it had been since he last stopped to eat.

"Dun thwead id." Resisting a step back he held his ground, but motioned with a nod of his head roughly to the pile of slowly dying fish being protectively coddled by their martyr. "Dath nod enouth mead do thight ober." Perhaps unwittingly insulting, it was clear in many ways that he was only young. Whether that excused his behaviours or not...

"I been wookin thor my thader." Always first thing to mind, but distracted perhaps by the roar of his gut, that despite the efforts of his conscious mind, was less than impressed about being put before a healthy pile of fresh white meat without so much as making an effort to snatch a single bite.

The young wolf wasn’t aggressive, which was a good start. A yearling wouldn’t stand a chance against a full grown pack wolf, well-fed and utterly determine to return with his prize. While his flag remained over his back arching proudly, his hackles flattened back against his shoulders. Eats rolled forward into the airplane position, no longer threatened a fight, but he was not quite ready to trust the youth, either. He’d not be the first wolf to fake innocence before darting in with the intention of thievery, after all.

The boy opened his mouth, and Kjors found himself temporarily taken aback. An accent? No, it was a lisp. The dragon tipped his head to one side, single eye narrowed as he tried to determine if there was anything noticeably wrong with the pale animal.

While he couldn’t pick up all the words, ‘not enough meat’ was clear enough. Ears flexed backwards and he snorted dismissively. “Says th’ boy wi’ nothin’ t’ eat at all,” he bit back, eye flashing molten gold as he offered a show of teeth. Violence was to be avoided when it could be, but all the same, an insult was an insult. The dragon’s pride was indefatigable. But the boy said something else, distracting the wolf just enough, and a silence fell between them again, Kjors’ mind racing as he tried to decipher the mangled words. He was…wookin’ for his fader? Father..

Wookin’?

“Is yer da gone?” he hazarded, unsure what else the boy could possibly want. “Look like ye?”

A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

Social exposure was definitely something that the young boy lacked, and would have justified his confusion at the ever changing attitude of the one-eyed male that stood so proud before him. On arrival his defences were high as expected, only to fall back when Zenjiro proved no threat, then lift back up with a show of teeth presumably brought about by the misinterpreted insults. It hadn't been meant in any kind of negative light. For all the white boy knew this stranger had brought back such a haul on his first ever attempt, in which case it would have been nothing short of impressive.

There were more pressing matters though, ones that did away with the need for any kind of apology, though he would have liked his chance had things not moved so quickly. His dad was gone, at least that much had been taken out of what the younger male had said. He was used to getting odd looks when strangers first heard him talk, and this one was already gaining points - and trust, for not having said anything mocking on the matter.

"Yeb. Don fow a why-w now." A nod of his head was broken as something in the distance caught his ears and his attention, body turning momentarily to observe... nothing, but in doing so displayed in better light the poor condition of his body, wet fur slicked down and outlining a somewhat starved and emaciated figure, and yet it seemed to have no effect on his demeanour. Where he should have been challenging, or begging for some fish, instead he was fixated on the task of finding someone to which he had no trail, not a clue in which direction they might have been going.

"'eth nod wike me ad awe." A shake of his head brought the pale green gaze back to the one-eyed male, almost looking hopeful that in asking, he must have seen someone unusual passing through the area. It was the slightest glimmer of hope, but it was one the boy would latch on to in an instant. "Bidder. Kin' ob wedd-aw. Wawks on fwee wegs." With that he lifted the appropriate hind limb, a demonstration of sorts as the the way his father travelled, and it was clearly something that the boy was familiar with, having no trouble holding his balance for the extended period in which he stared at the stranger, pleading for a reaction, hoping for something positive after the anguish and struggle of his absence.

If wolves had thought Kjors accent too strong in the past, he had nothing on the little lad standing before him now. The dragon struggled to piece his words together in a coherent sentence. That he was able to decipher what the boy was saying before meant that he wasn’t foolish, he’d made complete sentences and thoughts before. It was just the way he mangled the words, and in his loss, the male found himself feeling a bit foolish for it. To buy himself some time, he glanced down at his pile of winnings, and upon another moment of thought, picked one up and tossed it at the feet of the scrappy yearling.

“Eat,” he told him, trying to piece together the rest of Zenjiro’s description. The visual helped by miles and he bobbed his head, humming softly. At least he could answer the question. “Haven’t seen a three-legged wolf,” he replied, “ain’t heard a’ one, either.”

Something that unusual would be big news, and if someone had seen the missing father, he’d probably have heard. So he rolled his shoulder and gave the fair child a curious look. “Y’know winter’s coming, lad. Maybe y’ought t’ find a place t’ stay. Look again in th’ spring.”

If yer Da even makes it that long…