Kettle Pot Pond it's colder than you know

@Matheo | Cyril is taking over the lowlands >:B set sometime after this thread if that's ok w/ you <3 
early morning, light fog

This time the boy was heading east, a direction he had spent little time in. The east reminded him of the sad little agouti for she smelled woodsy, like how he imagined the forest in the distance to smell. He grunted, annoyed that his thoughts had fallen to the silver-eyed girl. Truthfully he hoped he never ran into her again, but after crossing her paths twice already Cyril was doubtful that luck would be on his side. His venture east had been tentative but he pushed himself forward, escaping the monadnock as the sun rolled over the horizon, spilling a golden hue over the lowlands.

As he grew his limbs had begun to ache and the only thing that seemed to soothe the dull pain in his joins was movement, so he continued to explore, even if it meant leaving the monadnock for a few hours. His parents had not scolded him for his little excursions—not yet, anyway—or they just had not noticed. Mother and father weren’t as daft as he wished they were, so Cyril was almost positive that they were aware of his frequent wandering. He hoped their silence was a sign of acceptance, or perhaps they were just waiting to corner him to dish out his punishment…

He shuddered at the thought and dismissed it with a flick of his tail. He would not allow the threat of being reprimanded prevent him from exploring. How else was he supposed to get familiar with the land? There was only so much he could see from the peak of the monadnock—it was much different seeing everything up close than it was from the height of the massive rock.

The fog struggled to dissipate from the tundra and Cyril was beginning to wonder if he would ever see the inviting blue of the sky again. A frown cut across his dark features as he continued forward, his ears perched high atop his crown. The grey haze made it difficult to see his surroundings and Cyril did not like how it dulled his senses. However, as he continued east the boy spotted a sliver of blue in the distance. He had been unsure of whether he would be able to locate the pond a second time, for it had been foggy the last time he'd visited it. It had also been where he had first encountered the silver-eyed girl and had been a very naughty boy.

The ebony cub flopped down at the grassy edge, a content sigh rolling off his tongue. He deserved a little break, for he had done a lot of walking the past week.

 

(This post was last modified: Aug 15, 2017, 03:01 AM by Cyril.)

Maybe luck was on Cyril’s side…or maybe luck was simply against Mathéo these days.  Nothing seemed to go right since Kisla’s death.  Every day was dreary and foggy.  All the wolves in the pack seemed to be on edge, snapping at each other as they collected in little groups that ebbed and flowed.  His sister was gone for quite a while, and some of the others had gone looking for her – to what avail, it was difficult for him to tell.  The other wolves might not be as sad as they were in the immediate wake of the sudden tragedy, but the young Tainn was observant enough to realize things were still quite unsettled, as if they still hung in the seconds after the earthquake.

Where was the aftershock?
 
So Cyril might not have found the silver-eyed hellion he was hoping to avoid, but he found the near closest thing – her only full-blooded sibling.
 
Or maybe Théo found Cyril.  He had been wandering around the paludal edges of the kettle pot when he realized he wasn’t alone.  But it wasn’t a stranger, it was another cub – and despite everything, the Tainn found himself curious.  Fat paws squelched in the grassy mud and he woofed softly, his tail giving a tentative wag.
 
“Hey.  You from here?”

@Matheo

A familiar scent flung itself against his damp nostrils, causing the boy’s ears to stand high atop his frown and his brows to narrow darkly. Was she following him?! Panic surged through him as he glanced around nervously, his yellow gaze seeking out the earthy scent that had once clung to Risaela’s pelt. He should not have come here. Cyril silently scolded his paws for taking him this far east. What he should have done was go west, for he had not explored that part of the tundra yet. He had kept close to the golden sea south of the monadnock and the stretch of lowlands between the rock and the forest in the far east. Both areas that Risaela seemed to frequent. Good job, dummy, he thought glumly to himself, his lips curling into a frown as he began preparing himself to run.

Fortunately for the little Kael he was not greeted by silver eyes—instead they were green. He blinked, a small sigh of relief rolling off his tongue as he turned to the tawny pup, his nose canted to the side. You from here? He gave a small shrug in response, his yellow gaze softening as he studied the reddish cub. “Sorta,” he added before motioning over his shoulder to the looming monadnock in the distance. “From over there. What abou’ you?” He asked, his toes curling into the soft ground as curiosity bubbled feverishly within his chest.

 

“…oh.”  Wolves could live there?  On that thing?  Or maybe they lived nearby, or underneath it, like the River wolves did with the trees.  That made a little more sense.  Green eyes studied the massive rock a moment longer before flicking back to the other child, having no idea his mischievous sister had already run into the Monadnock puppy several times over.
 
Theo’s tail gave a tentative wag.  He’d never met other puppies before.
 
Well.  Not ones that sorta knew him always, at any rate.  Not puppies that went River puppies.  “From over there,” he explained willing, glancing over his shoulder at the redwood forest in the distance.  Large feet padded gently as he turned his attention back to the pound.  It was so perfectly round, unlike anything the boy had seen to this date.  His ears pressed forward as he squelched into the mud, a bit perplexed by the utter roundness of the pond in front of him.  It definitely wasn’t like the water back at home.  The thought of home was enough to remind him, maybe, that he was forgetting something.  Like his manners.  Oh yeah.
 
The Tainn picked up a paw sheepishly.  “I’m Mathéo.  But Theo’s good.  Who’s you?”

The brown cub before him seemed confused by his answer. The monadnock was certainly threatening in appearance from a distance and did not seem like an ideal place to live. But, to the little Kael, the trees beyond them did not seem like a good place to live. It looked dark and threatening—did any sun ever poke through the thick canopy of branches? He frowned. Gross. How dreadful. Perhaps that was why the boy and the silver-eyed girl had chosen to explore the nearby pond, to escape the endless darkness within the forest.

Mathéo. Theo. What was with the forest cubs and their nicknames? Dismissing the thought with a sharp wag of his tail the Whitestone prince cocked his head to the side, a crooked smile rolling onto his dark lips, “Cyril.” Once the name rolled off his tongue his head fell to the opposite side, his ears flopping about the top of his crown. “Wha’cha doin’ out ‘ere?” He asked in a feeble attempt to continue the conversation and get some information out of the boy. He was curious about the weird, forest-dwelling wolves. Why did they chose to hide beneath the trees when the sky was far more welcoming? Was there something he was missing; something he had not yet seen or been told about? His curiosity bubbled within his chest as he kicked at the mud, his yellow gaze fixated on the tawny cub as he waited for a response.

“Cyril.  Huh.”
 
Cyril was kinda a weird name, but Théo figured he didn’t have much room to judge.  His name wasn’t that long to begin with, and the pup was beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t have been shortened further if his name wasn’t kinda weird.  Like the adults liked Théo better.  The young Tainn liked them both, however, and as long as he never forgot the name his Mama gave him, he supposed the rest wasn’t really important.
 
( The notion of nasty name calling hadn’t really occurred to the kid, not at this point. )
 
But Cyril drew him back out of his head, and Théo gave a short little hum as he tried to remember why he’d come out here before he’d spotted another cub his age.  It dawned on him just then that this was the first time he’d met another boy, at least one his age, and something warm and curious bloomed somewhere in his chest.  “Just lookin’.  Got bored at home.  Adults are so…mopey.”  He lifted both shoulders in a shrug, not exactly sure how to vocalize that he’d gotten tired of the suffocating sadness.  That he wanted to see what was beyond the river.  That he wanted to know who else was out there.  “There’re no other boys, you know.  Not at home.”

Just lookin’. The smudge nodded in silent understanding, for he was prone to just looking as well. The little Kael wanted to see it all, especially since he had already seen most of the lowlands from above. It was entirely different seeing everything up close, and often did not match the description he had painted in his head. Usually it was much more appealing.

Mopey? His head twisted to the side once more, his brows pinched in confusion. He was not sure if he wanted to pry, mostly because he wasn’t sure if he cared. Maybe they were mopey because all the trees were blocking the sun… or maybe something worse had happened. Was it why the silver-eyed bug had been so gloomy during their last encounter? Did he dare ask? His tongue clucked against the roof of his mouse as he battled with his own curiosity, his yellow gaze fixated on the green-eyed boy.

He blinked at the boy’s statement, his shoulders rolling into a soft shrug as he dismissed the statement. “There’s no other pups back at home f’me,” he countered, his lips falling into a thin line. Was that a good thing? He didn’t know.

“Huh.”

Was that weird?  Or was having four other puppies running around the weird part?  He wondered which one was better – if Cyril had more adults to pay attention to him, or if his mother came with a father, too.  On some level, he was aware these weren’t appropriate questions to ask, and the young wolf held his tongue, racking his brain for something else to ask.  Despite the general awkwardness, it was still at least one hundred times better than anything that was happening at home.
 
So he struggled harder.
 
“So…you go out a lot?  ‘splorin’?”
 
Maybe he got different rules, because he was all alone.  Maybe they let him off the weird rock thing because he an only child.  The wolf had so many questions he was just dying to ask, and--  Mathéo gave an aggressive huff, paws stamping across the ground.  “What are the wolves like?  Where ya live?”
 
Which was weird, too.  Maybe he was just stuck that way, being weird.  Being awkward.  But it seemed better than the other questions lingering around the back corners of his mind, so he had to stick with it, and bit the edge of his tongue to keep the rest in.  That was weird enough, for now.

His paws shuffled awkwardly beneath him, his yellow gaze narrowing as he, too, struggled to find something to say. He was used to being around those older than him, who typically carried the conversation for him, as he wasn’t always interested in talking. Especially since his mouth seemed to get him in trouble—sometimes not talking was the better option.

A question finally rolled off the river boy’s tongue, nearly causing Cyril to sigh in relief. Instead he nodded quickly, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Mhhhhmm,” he hummed in response, his tail giving a quick, sharp wag behind him. “I try to, an’way,” he added with a dismissive shrug. “Sometimes i’s hard to sneak away.” With Cyril being the only cub in the pack it meant the adults kept a closer eye on him, for there was only one youth to keep track of. If he wandered away it was much easier to follow him. He still hadn’t figured out how to cover his tracks.

“I live on top of the rock, silly!” A laugh followed his words, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “The others are alright. They like takin’ me out sometimes, too, so I don’ gotta sneak off.” His eyes narrowed, a single brow arched. “Wha’ about you? Where do you live?” It was only fair they traded information. 

Where did he live?  Was he supposed to be giving that kind of information to strangers?  Hm, it seemed only fair, since Cyril had given him the same, first.  “I live in the woods,” he decided on, making a vague gesture with his snout towards the Kingswood and the river within.  And speaking of home…  It finally started to occur to the young wolf that maybe he’d been gone too long, and maybe he really ought to start heading home.  Like now.  Like hours ago.  They might get mad.
 
The young wolf swallowed hard.
 

“I should probably go home now…  See you later, maybe.”

End.