dated for December 18, light snow
It had been two, maybe three, days since he’d last caught wind of the yellow-eyed snowball around the shallows. The Edge Lord’s had allowed the tawny boy to stretch his legs and sniff around for the pale subordinate. It was too cold to be wandering around without a pack to come home to and Sachiel couldn’t help but fear for the worst. What if something had happened to the snowflake? Something bad?!
No. He had to remain positive. They were in new territory, after all, and there was snow everywhere. Which made it even harder to navigate—even for the walking map, Sachiel.
Cottongrass just got turned around, that’s all. And the agouti Leigh was determined to find him and bring him home.
He kept marching west, his gangly legs dragging through the snow as he pursued the mountain in the distance. The boy had no intention of climbing it—not in this weather!—but he wanted to skirt the bottom. It was possible that Cottongrass had gotten too close to the mountain and found a cave, or something, to hide in. His pace quickened, his brows falling into a tight line as he fought the snow falling from overhead. It was not as bad as it had been—he could still see, which was a plus. But, the further he distanced himself from the shallows, the more he began to worry that he would end up lost too.
Stay positive.
He nodded to himself, his oversized paws pushing through the snow as he surveyed his surroundings. It looked like he had found his way to the edge of the mountain. Trees were scattered around the frozen river, large snow-covered boulders placed sporadically around the foothill. A sigh escaped him; relief.
Now he just had to find Cottongrass’ trail…