12-31-2019, 08:28 PM
Almost a year he'd been in the same place, and the stagnation was beginning to wear on him. Itchy feet, that's what he'd been born with. Itchy feet and a broken compass. It was a recipe for being perpetually lost, and it was the life he'd gotten used to.
The vast maze that was the forest of Taiga had become a little easier to navigate the last season or so. Trails were navigable, if he paid attention. It was becoming possible to survive, and he figured if he stayed another winter, he'd do much better than he had the previous one. Still. It wasn't home. He knew it wasn't home.
The milky-pale marbles of his eyes blinked, hidden beneath the matted whiteness of his forelock. He needed to keep moving. The road needed to fall beneath his feet again, to lead him to new places. So he would follow the path his hooves didn't know, the one he would stumble on until he had no idea where he was any longer.
It was slow going, of course. It always was, when he traveled someplace new on his own. There was a prickly patch of bramble that caught him by surprise when the trail didn't go the way he thought it would. A rocky hill made him stumble. That was part of the adventures though, wasn't it? The not knowing was the thrill, the surprise of what he'd find at the end of his selfmade path.
Eventually, as they always did, the scents changed. The footing changed. You go far enough, and everything changes.
@[Neverwhere]
The vast maze that was the forest of Taiga had become a little easier to navigate the last season or so. Trails were navigable, if he paid attention. It was becoming possible to survive, and he figured if he stayed another winter, he'd do much better than he had the previous one. Still. It wasn't home. He knew it wasn't home.
The milky-pale marbles of his eyes blinked, hidden beneath the matted whiteness of his forelock. He needed to keep moving. The road needed to fall beneath his feet again, to lead him to new places. So he would follow the path his hooves didn't know, the one he would stumble on until he had no idea where he was any longer.
It was slow going, of course. It always was, when he traveled someplace new on his own. There was a prickly patch of bramble that caught him by surprise when the trail didn't go the way he thought it would. A rocky hill made him stumble. That was part of the adventures though, wasn't it? The not knowing was the thrill, the surprise of what he'd find at the end of his selfmade path.
Eventually, as they always did, the scents changed. The footing changed. You go far enough, and everything changes.
@[Neverwhere]