Sex: MaleHis trek from home had been a rather uneventful one. It seemed that the wolves of this wilderness knew when to hunker down and stay put. Towser Lyall was not one of them, and he had not seen any signs of life for the past month. Steady limbs mounted a low knoll and, upon the crest, he saw the Moor in all its sprawling glory. Virgin, untouched snow for miles in any direction.
He gave his thick winter coat a good shake and sighed. His head lowered as he adopted his hunter's lope again, tail level with his spine. A little faster than a walk, but slower than the average wolf's sprint. The quicker he traversed this part of Relic Lore, the quicker he found a good spot to spend the night. If the clouds foretold of a storm, he reckoned he was in for quite a night. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, exposed in the open was not ideal.
A few good meters behind him, he soon realized that he was possibly not alone. The snow all around him, when seen properly, held signs of others. Previous snow storms had covered all tracks and scents with a blanket of frost. Camouflaged. Erased.
The Lyall's steps slowed as he took a deep breath of chilled winter air. A soft song in his vocal cords, he half-hummed and half-sung a tune he once heard as a cub.
Sing me a song of a lad that is gone.
Say, could that lad be I?
A little chuckle as he figured he might as well have been singing about himself in his current situation.
"Merry of soul, he trekked on a day,
'Til the mountains drew nigh...
Billow and breeze, rivers and seas,
Seasons of rain and sun,
All that was good, all that was fair,"
Here, his footsteps slowed to a definite stop. His tail fell limb behind his heels. The last bit of song left his lips with wistful realization,
"All that was me is... gone."
(This post was last modified: Feb 07, 2024, 11:50 PM by Towser.)