Each night he wept himself to sleep, he'd have the same dream. A memory of running through the tundra with his Ma with a trail of laughter and joy. Every time, before he startled awake, it'd turn sour. His laughter morphing into desperate, frayed cries for his mother who'd disappeared into snowdrift, but left a path of blood-stained snow behind.

He's too young to decipher the nightmare, too naive to have realized that it wasn't a nightmare at all, but a memory.

So everytime he'd wake up, he'd set off across the bitter cold plains. With no general direction, he wandered around with a tucked tail and an awful sense of helpless fear. Calling for his mother, and praying that each howl of wind would bring her beckoning call.

It never did. It only sometimes summoned the mean lump of charcoal who'd began to shadow his steps, Tarquin. Llewellyn made efforts to ignore the boy, despite how badly he wished to seek comfort and alliance.

In his path, he leaves his little paw prints. His nose runs as he tilted it toward the bleary sky, his ears pinned against his sleek skull as he wandered aimless and afraid.

Ma? Are you there? He'd squeak. Each time, it'd go unanswered.

A voice was carried by a bitter gust of wind, freezing his nose and tickling his ears. Llewellyn broke into a sprint, eyes wide and smile hopeful...only for it to fall when he found himself leering up at a man and not his Ma.

The disappointment scrawls across his expression, curls tight in his gut as he stumbled a few steps back, the blonde hair along his spine rising with unease. The wise words of his Ma drift through his mind; do not trust strangers, Llew.

And even though the man looks nice enough, the fear instilled still lingered. He looked up at the stranger ashamedly, his lips pursed and tail curved against his inner thigh.

H-Hi. Have you seen my Ma? He croaked. She looks like me b—but with dark eyes.

That flicker of hope is back, glimmering in his pallid eyes, as he waited on a bated breath.

The man hadn't seen her. Llewellyn, despite having half-expected the reply, couldn't help the bloom of frustration that coiled in his gut. He knows the tundra is vast, but he is nothing if not naive in his hope that someone in this white wasteland had come across her.

Oh. He muttered. A glimmer of disappointment in his pale eyes, as they fell to stare at his snow-clad paws. I dunno where she went...can't remember. Truthfully, he scantly remembered the last time they'd been together at all. He has nothing but his reoccurring nightmare of her running off into the blinding-white, leaving nothing but a trail of crimson blood against the snow.

His stomach lurched at the thought of something having happened to his Ma. She was strong — much stronger than he ever was — but he cannot help but worry.

His ears swiveled, piqued by the man's offer to help his search. He sat up just a little straighter, that flicker of hope reviving just enough to make him eager. Really? You would?

Then, his mother's warning tickled his mind again, and he deflated once more. Timid, cautious. W-Well, my Ma said not to trust strangers...