feels like December knows me well
It did not take long for the cumbersome colt to find his way from Nerine to Taiga, not that he knew the names of the places he journeyed; after all, one could easily get lost in the world around them when one's mother spent less than a fraction of her time actually paying attention to said one. Arctyrus knew the feeling well, often found himself growing cold and dark at the memory of his first day alive, of how warmly the stallion Brennen had spoken to him, and of how desperately he craved to be addressed as such again.
Like a person, or someone who would someday grow to be a person; being addressed as anything would be better than his apparent invisibility to Scorch.
The Taigan scenery drew Arctyrus in with long fingers, sending chills cascading down his too-long legs and his too-heavy head as though to welcome him into her otherworldly depths. The young boy hadn't met many people as of yet, and often found himself wandering where perhaps he shouldn't, on account of him not being raised proper and all. Perhaps if that nice man Brennen had stuck around - but no, Arc forces himself to remember, he has duties elsewhere, duties besides caring for a stranger.
The chills, he realizes, are self-induced, and have nothing to do with the wind. Still, he wraps layers of darkness around himself, visibly obscuring his figure but not hiding it at all. As such, he trundles through the Taigan forest, tears dripping down his face as he considers his place in this weary world. A few months old, and already at his wits' end.
