Why he even bothered was a mystery. Maybe the only reason he kept trying was because he was sick and tired of being dicked over by life, no matter how hard he worked or how much distance he put between himself and his demons or how much bad luck he'd already experienced. A peaceful, functioning life in the Woodlands hadn't been much to ask for, had it? A simple existence, with reasonable and kind leaders, with his mother at his side, hadn't been a huge ask, was it? Not after what he'd quietly endured in the first year of his life? Had he wanted too much?
It was fortunate that the Woodlands wolves were so laidback and calm because it made it a little easier to pretend that he could do what @
Aideen had asked him. While the Athesila family were close-knit, the pack itself was a little looser, independent. He hardly ever saw @
Inali, for one, and probably would have bumped into @
Rayne a lot more if the mere idea didn't send him into a flurry of panic. It took every ounce of self-control not to go crying to the much older man that he couldn't do it, to please take it away, to relieve him of the responsibility. There were only two reasons that he didn't do exactly that: @
Miccah had trusted him, and his mother would have been so proud.
The world's sense of humour was sick. Why did it matter what a corpse would approve of? Why was he still driven by what she would want when it didn't matter any more? He'd gone to the mountain, carrying a tuft of her fur between his freezing jaws, and he had climbed as high as his shaking, starving body could manage, and he had let her go, and she had drifted away on the wind like so many dead dandelions.
Everything once beautiful was bloody and ugly now, and there he was, blubbering in the corner, despicable.
The snow crunched easily under his paws as he moved, the occasional drip of water from his nose or chin landing on the white blanket, never to be seen again. Having learned his lesson about not watching where he was going (not that he was still entirely adverse to the idea of 'accidentally' running into something dangerous) his grey eyes flickered anxiously over the wildwood ahead of him, constantly ensuring that the area ahead was clear and empty of wolves. The number of potential encounters he had carefully avoided, now, were in the high double digits. Pack wolf, lone wolf, it didn't matter; if he couldn't guarantee they would attack on sight, he wouldn't take the risk. He knew how to use his small size and pale fur to his advantage in order to slip away before he was seen. Whether or not they noticed his tracks or scent never mattered, for he was long gone. It was easier that way.
This situation should have been no different. The unmistakable scent of wolf was in the air, distinguishable despite the pungent fish he carried, and it was only moments later that he spotted her; a tawny young thing, nosing through the snow, her sides noticeably shrunken. It was not hard to guess at her activities. Ears flicking back in discomfort, trying to push down the swell of sympathy before it made him do something he would regret.
But she was only young, the same age as @
Cinaed, @
Flair and @
Enia... and the thought of them, the fact that the only purpose of his own that he never questioned was to ensure their wellbeing, was what caused him to hesitate before slipping off into the forest, to watch her for just a moment too long.