02-05-2019, 01:42 PM
EASTWARD BOUND
ARTHUR MORGAN — MALE — SNOWBOUND — ARCTICPLAYER — HARD
The cold wasn't so bad once you got used to it. But he was one to talk considering he was usually found either in his home or around a fire if he wasn't out hunting. The wolf hadn't gotten completely used to it by any means but he was complaining less much to the probable relief of his tribemates. He wasn't vocal about it around them but he was sure they could sense his bitterness coming off in waves whenever the weather got too bad. Hiding words was one thing. Hiding emotions was another.
The dusty brown wolf had been scouting the outside of the main camp when he heard the howl, freezing dead in his tracks. He knows this howl and he resists the urge to stay quiet, instead answering back with his own strong call before setting off through the snow towards the source of the noise. His heartbeat races, blood rushing, paws pounding as he takes in a deep breath. He knows this howl. He knows this scent. If there really was a God somewhere up there, he'd have to remember to thank Him.
It wasn't long before the Arcticplayer tumbled from the dry undergrowth, his hat nearly toppling off his head and into the snow the way he hurried to stop himself in front of the large male. It took him a few moments to process that this was indeed the very man he had suspected. "Dutch." he breathed, almost in disbelief. The last time he saw the older man was before he got separated after the attack in the hills. He wouldn't admit seeing him alive was a bit of a shock to him. He could almost hear Dutch reprimanding him for not "having faith" he would live. How could he not? They're attacked and split apart, mostly left to fend for themselves in the cold. It's an easy death. But the hopeful embers in his chest swells into a fire. If Dutch was alive, then maybe the others are okay too?
The dusty brown wolf had been scouting the outside of the main camp when he heard the howl, freezing dead in his tracks. He knows this howl and he resists the urge to stay quiet, instead answering back with his own strong call before setting off through the snow towards the source of the noise. His heartbeat races, blood rushing, paws pounding as he takes in a deep breath. He knows this howl. He knows this scent. If there really was a God somewhere up there, he'd have to remember to thank Him.
It wasn't long before the Arcticplayer tumbled from the dry undergrowth, his hat nearly toppling off his head and into the snow the way he hurried to stop himself in front of the large male. It took him a few moments to process that this was indeed the very man he had suspected. "Dutch." he breathed, almost in disbelief. The last time he saw the older man was before he got separated after the attack in the hills. He wouldn't admit seeing him alive was a bit of a shock to him. He could almost hear Dutch reprimanding him for not "having faith" he would live. How could he not? They're attacked and split apart, mostly left to fend for themselves in the cold. It's an easy death. But the hopeful embers in his chest swells into a fire. If Dutch was alive, then maybe the others are okay too?
❝ NO TROPHY, NO FLOWERS, NO FLASHBULBS, NO WINE ❞
timber wolf + 3 years + @Sympathy ————— he's haunted by something he cannot define