forest of stars

Ever since he'd spoken to Nina he felt himself crack open like a winter bud, yearning for just a little piece of sunlight. Duty. What else could he do but scour the reaches of the thicket, perpetually lost in each lackluster day, ideas and dedication slowly going extinct. Like some kind of rare piece of growth on a large mountain, he stayed alone, pleading with the vines that trapped him for relief. The monotony grew over him in layers of dust. His own mind seemed to slip sometimes as he stood at the edge of the border, looking longingly over his shoulder. But something gold and gracious always kept him trailing back to the centerfold of home late every evening. He wondered how much longer it would be before his body took leave. He padded in the hollow of the tunnel carved by the daily trek of his lonesome. Hudson was halfway to the den picking back in the darkness, occasionally lifting his gaze to where the sky would be if it weren't for the umbra of thick trees. He wished someone would find him here in the young hours, but knew it was unlikely that anyone would stop for a word with the local hermit who was too reclusive to appear in broad daylight. He let dust roll from his lungs in a long, troubled sigh. He wasn't tired, there was no reason to return to the den when his legs would itch with restlessness and his mind quiver with the urge to run headlong through chin-high snow. The thicket was confining, but somehow he'd managed to adapt to the thorny twists, remembering to duck his head every so often from the mess of hanging twine. He needed some expanse ahead of him, something to conquer, devour with outstretched limbs and bulging lungs. Huck knew it'd be half the battle if he'd just let himself into the embracing arms of his packmates. He knew he'd eventually find his way. Even Nina still had promise for him in her heart. So he halted, closer to the pack's den then he knew. He lifted his nose to the leaf-shrouded sky and quietly howled. "Is anyone home?" HUDSON SAWYER