Bowed Maple Bend there's nothing here but what's here is mine

January 21; Afternoon; Scattered Clouds; 15.8 ° F, -9 ° C.

If his parents thought they were only going to let one cub breakaway from their family and call it a done deal (and anticipate a very rough Spring season with four maturing Argyris-Archers and four rowdy, up-and-coming yearlings), they were wrong. Sawyer was not a wolf of concrete plans. He let the leaves and raindrops fall where they may; everything was up to chance. It was on a whim that he decided for himself that he wanted what his adventuring sister Vanadis was after.

He had been trailing her for weeks, loosely following her path until he grew bored of it, weary of the assumed sense of urgency in her pace. The light snowfall from yesterday had slowed him down some; but, this delay of sorts only allowed him the means to take in the scenery and the openness of the untamed wilds around him. He supposed he could catch up to Vanadis later. Check in with her. Snoop about and touch base. Find out if they could still be thick as thieves like in their yearling days.

Trailing around the river he had been following for more than a day, he came to find a lonely tree and what seemed to be a half-frozen pond. Hmmph. Boring. His red-furred brow furrowed as he stood at the water's edge, staring at the bowed branches and the slow-moving river. In the springtime it might have been a decent place to kick up some frogs or turtles or anything else of interest, but in the dead of winter... Hard. Pass.

you musn't be afraid
to dream a little bigger, darling
⟡ ⟡ ⟡

It had only been mere minutes when the Archer decided that the glassy pond was nothing amusing. For good measure, he let out a string of loud barks. "Hello!" the cascading notes offered. "I'm here... and you're... NOT!"

Exasperation was an understatement by now. This little game of chase had been fun at first, but now was starting to downright bore him. Point A to point B. From Lichenstone Loch to Vanadis. That was all he had wanted. His patience was growing thin and his stomach was starting to complain.

With a disgusted snort, he looked down at his own reflection. The distorted red devil sneered back at him before he pulled away and started walking. One heavy stomp of a step in front of the other until he was no longer visible from the maple's place along the bank. A sharp hiss sounded through his teeth and, before he knew it, his gangly legs had broken into a sprint.

So much for nothing...

If anything was for sure, his father had once told him that Relic Lore was a vast wilderness. This lonely river was only the first of its offerings; albeit a lame one. Surely, if he went deeper into the unknown, he was going to find something more interesting. All he had to do was keep going.

{Fade.}

you musn't be afraid
to dream a little bigger, darling
⟡ ⟡ ⟡