1/19/2025, 5:03 AM
"Yes! Rhydian. Your kids!"
The snow never felt so soft as it did then. A cold, rigid embrace that cradled him oh so tenderly. The voice in his ear had become a dull droning and the memories of his wolflings were his only respite.
His head had been propped awkwardly against the snow, his abdomen poised high in the air. Somehow, the little she-wolf--rather, little comparatively-- managed to leap over him, sending a cascade of snow into his eyes and nose, precipitously yanking him from the depths of his palliative memories. A disgruntled growl escaped from his lips.
"I smell wolves here... wherever we are, it's not our land. Now come on. We are not going to find those two if we're dead."
Perhaps it was reluctance to face the utter reality of the situation-- his wife had just broken up with him, he had just fled a prison camp... it was safe to say the situation couldn't possibly get any worse. What would the wolves in this territory do that could even slightly exacerbate the gravity of the situation? However, there was something Rhydian shant deny. The commanding tone of Faeline's voice, the way she was capable of solely producing dialogue that would motivate even the laziest of bastards... It reached out to him from the depths of his stupor.
As she departed, his eyes fluttered snow from his vision until he could distinguish her white silhouette with squinted eyes. Regardless of the situation, he had to find a way to locate his kids. The slim chance they were alive was chance enough, and he couldn't do it alone. Not out here. It wasn't until her silhouette blended into the snow that the wolf dragged forth a pained groan from deep within his chest.
As the brute stirred, his towering frame rose from the ground, thick tufts of fur splitting to relieve the weight of powder that had amassed along his back. The hazy, winter fog had become dense and soupy, to the point where Faeline was no longer visible. The thick tree line ahead, he assumed, was where she entered. His legs plowed him forward.
"Fae, wait--"
The snow never felt so soft as it did then. A cold, rigid embrace that cradled him oh so tenderly. The voice in his ear had become a dull droning and the memories of his wolflings were his only respite.
His head had been propped awkwardly against the snow, his abdomen poised high in the air. Somehow, the little she-wolf--rather, little comparatively-- managed to leap over him, sending a cascade of snow into his eyes and nose, precipitously yanking him from the depths of his palliative memories. A disgruntled growl escaped from his lips.
"I smell wolves here... wherever we are, it's not our land. Now come on. We are not going to find those two if we're dead."
Perhaps it was reluctance to face the utter reality of the situation-- his wife had just broken up with him, he had just fled a prison camp... it was safe to say the situation couldn't possibly get any worse. What would the wolves in this territory do that could even slightly exacerbate the gravity of the situation? However, there was something Rhydian shant deny. The commanding tone of Faeline's voice, the way she was capable of solely producing dialogue that would motivate even the laziest of bastards... It reached out to him from the depths of his stupor.
As she departed, his eyes fluttered snow from his vision until he could distinguish her white silhouette with squinted eyes. Regardless of the situation, he had to find a way to locate his kids. The slim chance they were alive was chance enough, and he couldn't do it alone. Not out here. It wasn't until her silhouette blended into the snow that the wolf dragged forth a pained groan from deep within his chest.
As the brute stirred, his towering frame rose from the ground, thick tufts of fur splitting to relieve the weight of powder that had amassed along his back. The hazy, winter fog had become dense and soupy, to the point where Faeline was no longer visible. The thick tree line ahead, he assumed, was where she entered. His legs plowed him forward.
"Fae, wait--"
