Windsong Fjord never gonna find anything to change my mind

famous last lines of a fool

The smoke should have caused him to stick closer to home, but instead Ryder found himself wandering farther each time he set out. Was Caspian out here somewhere, watching the sky darken and collecting ash within his fur? Or was he...

Ryder picked his way along the steep slopes of the fjord, around loose rocks and thorny scrub brush. The weather was immensely hot, and breathing felt difficult, but in a way he was growing used to this wretched summer's affronts. Becoming one with the smog and debris. Maybe he would disappear out here too. Maybe he could really just evaporate. Who would it hurt, really? His mother had his sister, and...

'Well I'm not your family.'

His own words echoed harshly through his head, ears pressed down and mouth dipping into a grimace. His steps slowed until stopping altogether, and then his haunches dropped to the ground. Tears started to sting his smoke-irritated eyes and he was grateful to be miles away from his pack so that no one could see when he began to cry.

(This post was last modified: Jul 26, 2023, 08:04 PM by Ryder.)

There was something pretty about the fjord, despite the smog encasing the world in a heavy blanket. It was hot as hell itself, which was... aggravating. But what was Acheron supposed to do: sit and stew as his pelt melted off of him? He'd drunk some halfway-to-boiling water from the gap between the hills, and maybe he'd go back down to hunt later, but he was pretty happy, all things considered. Maybe it was the new surroundings exciting his constantly-frazzled mind -- he was an explorer at heart, he thought; he'd always sort of liked being a vagabond as a child, liked discovering the tricks of each new place he and his mother went to -- or maybe it was just the solitude he had been so desperate for in that claustrophobic horde they'd hoped for safety in. Suffering felt strangely satisfying to him. Maybe he was in purgatory now, but he would find heaven soon. Someday he would have everything he ever dreamed of, and he would know for a fact that it was because he had struggled through pain.

He scented a wolf. Young but not too young, belonging to a pack -- it was hard to pull out more under the concealment of the smoke's thick odor. He kept moving towards the stranger: he was bored, or maybe he was lonely, or he just wanted to see what someone else was doing there. Take your pick. He was approaching quietly from behind -- not because he was trying to sneak up on the boy, just because! -- but before he could say hello, the soft but unmistakable sound of crying became apparent, and his paws halted. He hesitated: should he just leave? Kid was probably here because he wanted to be alone, and Acheron didn't particularly want to deal with a crying stranger today (or any day for that matter -- this was not his area of expertise).

Ryder hated being this way, the wet upon his cheeks and needing to grit his fangs together to stop from making sound. For a moment, he let it happen, but then he stood abruptly and wheeled around, determined to change scenery fast in hopes it would chase this sorrow away. Instead of just rocky ground, his grey eyes witnessed a stranger standing near and watching him. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he realized he'd been caught at his weakest.

Briefly, @Isla's face flashed through his mind, a reminder to keep his guard up. Surprise morphed into a scowl, and Ryder's hackles bristled, crown rising while his muzzle angled downward, ready for anything this giant might throw at him.

"Can I help you?" he asked in a tone that very much communicated he was not about to assist with anything.