02-28-2019, 10:16 PM
EASTWARD BOUND
ARTHUR MORGAN — MALE — SNOWBOUND — SNOWSEEKER — HARD
Snowbound was great. It really was. But there was something Arthur always felt it was missing; or, rather, lacking. Arthur always ran on very little sleep, a couple of hours, yet he seemed to be just fine. He was always late to bed and early to rise, making sure not to waste the day if he could help it. Of course it wasn't hard to notice how most of the Snowpokes seemed to call it quits early on in the night right when it was just getting started! Frankly he thought it a crime, but he wouldn't tell others how to live their lives. And sure, during the night you couldn't hunt much, or fish, or go on patrols, but nighttime could still be fun.
And Arthur decided to have his own fun. He picked a spot away from the main camp, being sure to choose a place that wouldn't disturb anyone wanting to rest. It took a bit of time to gather the wood and clear away some of the snow, but eventually the timber wolf had made a nice campfire for himself. He could almost hear the bustle of old friends. Mary Beth and the girls playing dominos, Javier strumming his guitar while the rest erupted into song. It was a happy memory, one that brought a smile to his lips. He missed those days. Missed his family so much he ached. The bitter sweetness of it all brought him an odd sense of comfort. And slowly, his voice rose over the quiet air.
"Dan Taylor is a rollicking cuss,
A frisky son of a gun,
He loves to court the maidens
And he savies how it's done.
He used to be a cowboy
And they say he wasn't slow,
He could ride the bucking bronco
And swing the long lasso."
He isn't amazing. His voice is hard and gruff, and he hums the tune more than he sings the lyrics, but he does what little stuck into his head and he couldn't be more pleased. Maybe one day he'd remember enough to get through to the halfway point? Hah.
And Arthur decided to have his own fun. He picked a spot away from the main camp, being sure to choose a place that wouldn't disturb anyone wanting to rest. It took a bit of time to gather the wood and clear away some of the snow, but eventually the timber wolf had made a nice campfire for himself. He could almost hear the bustle of old friends. Mary Beth and the girls playing dominos, Javier strumming his guitar while the rest erupted into song. It was a happy memory, one that brought a smile to his lips. He missed those days. Missed his family so much he ached. The bitter sweetness of it all brought him an odd sense of comfort. And slowly, his voice rose over the quiet air.
"Dan Taylor is a rollicking cuss,
A frisky son of a gun,
He loves to court the maidens
And he savies how it's done.
He used to be a cowboy
And they say he wasn't slow,
He could ride the bucking bronco
And swing the long lasso."
He isn't amazing. His voice is hard and gruff, and he hums the tune more than he sings the lyrics, but he does what little stuck into his head and he couldn't be more pleased. Maybe one day he'd remember enough to get through to the halfway point? Hah.
❝ NO TROPHY, NO FLOWERS, NO FLASHBULBS, NO WINE ❞
timber wolf + 3 years + @Sympathy ————— he's haunted by something he cannot define