He thought about making a trip up the mountain to see if his grandmother had made it to her former home. If she was still alive, as her health crossed his mind often. He was worried about crossing paths with his uncle again, or his mother. She had yet to find him and Sachiel intended to keep it that way, for he knew their meeting would be similar to the disaster that had occurred between his pumpkin-eyed friend and her estranged, flighty mother.
His paws dragged him in the direction of the mountain but he dared not venture up the snow-covered slopes. Not without seeking permission from his leaders first. The dark agouti knew it would take him a few days to reach the lake his grandmother had described; he could not leave without asking first. Sachiel did not want his leaders to think he was deserting them—not after all they had done for him.
Ever since the beginning of heat season the boy had spending most of his time beyond the Edge borders, scouting and tending to the caches as he couldn’t stand to be around the agitated adults. Especially the older females. He was very fortunate his friend did not share the same scent, although he worried it would claim her in the years to come. While they weren't always attached at the hip Sachiel couldn’t imagine having to avoid her for thirty-one days—that seemed impossible!
He shuddered at the thought as he kicked at a snow pile, his brows falling into a tight line. The agouti had veered closer to the edge of the forest, the shades of green he adored muted by the abundance of snow. He was impatient for spring to finally make an appearance. His mismatched gaze trailed to the mountain in the distance, the corners of his mouth dropping as he wondered how long it would take him to reach the Cove…