RE: Winter makes a comeback! A cold snap drops a dusting of snow across Relic Lore, killing early spring flowers.
Isomne tried to hum a little tune to lighten her steps, but for once, her heart wasn't in it. Her paws and legs were all muddy, still stained red from the long journey through the sierra hills. One would think that travelling along a creek, she would have ample opportunities to stop for a bath and a bit of personal care, but the recent cold snap had left her reluctant to do more than steal up to the edge of the icy, fast-flowing water for a drink. This was not the calming, soothing, healing, singing river of her home, no, but still, she had been reluctant to stray far from the sound of it once she had happened upon it days ago. It seemed to meander endlessly through the cold hills and empty forests, and Isomne felt that it must be leading her towards something. There must be a source, or else perhaps she could follow it until it met a river, or even the sea! Just think of being able to see that! She had several shanties ready for such an occasion, not that she was likely to ever need them. She had no idea what she was looking for, anyway - somewhere far enough from home to feel safe and hospitable enough to make some sort of life for herself, she supposed, but that didn't feel right. She wanted to run back to her old den, back to all the familiar faces she missed so dearly. Was she really never going to see any of them again, never go back? She couldn't really come to terms with it, even after weeks on the road. But there was nothing for it but to keep travelling for now, unless she wanted to settle forever in this ghostly region, or worse, make her mother disappointed with her for tucking tail and turning back. Which she did not. But she felt so alone!
It should have been simple enough - follow the creek, right? It could only flow one way, right? Only, it wasn't as easy as all that. She would be going along all fine and dandy, until she came to a spot she couldn't traverse - the banks would be washed out or the creek dashing boldly through sharp rocks on a course that one would need wings or a deathwish to follow. And so she would find some other route, around the base of a hill or something, only to find the creek was flowing off in some unexpected direction or doubling back on itself the next time she found it. It was like something out of the old tales and songs, some faerie trickery, or else she had slipped hard and fast into early cognitive decline. Or maybe she was just not cut out for the lone-wolf, rugged survivalist lifestyle - that was hardly surprising. None of it made much sense, but it was what it was, and she could only strike along as best she could in a vaguely northerly direction, wishing she had some survival skills in more than wandering aimlessly and scavenging, or else one of her siblings or friends along to help her. But she had none of that anymore, and she would just have to get used to it.
She'd become so wrapped up in her frustrations that she was hardly aware of anything besides the perplexing, hypnotizing eddies of the stream she followed and the hole growing in her heart. Maybe that's what happened if you lost your song... you lost your way, too. She tried humming a little louder, hoping to drown out her loneliness.
(This post was last modified: May 10, 2021, 04:37 PM by Isomne.)