Homebound (c)
May 31, 2015 23:09:43 GMT -5
Post by WARDOG on May 31, 2015 23:09:43 GMT -5
[setting in spring because of time and the move]
The early morning was not silent or calm. The birds were incessant in their chirping and singing, greeting the young sun with all the joy Lykaios did not feel. The young canine had been travelling for quite awhile now, and all he really wanted to do was collapse in a Kekoan room and sleep for a week. Real, true sleep, not the wary napping he had been surviving on for the past few years. He had gone out to find his fortune and his father and all the mutt received was scars and a healthy distrust of strangers. He had found stories, of course, but they were so elevated in the telling that there was no way any of them were true. Even the newest stories about his father were exaggerated. There was no way one dog could take on six others and walk away. At least he had his father's name, and now he could get the truth from his mother when he finally got back home.
If he got back home. The ridgeback mix wasn't really sure he was even heading in the right direction. He knew that he was going towards Cascaro as a whole, but if he hit the wrong side it would mean another day or two of walking before making it. Walking through the city and all the assholes he remembered from his childhood. The thought of trying to make it through Agilulfos and other low-lives to see his family again only soured his mood more, and he missed the territory markers of Tempest.
Lykaios crested a low hill and tried to see just where he was in relation to the city. What he found was not motivating. He had got too far to the east, and needed to go through a lot of Sioux Forest before reaching the estate. A curse forced its way out, gruff and intense. Maybe the extra time was a good thing. It wouldn't do to see his brother and sisters again and be ready to snap someone's head off. Lyk tried to take a calming breath, and in doing so finally realized that he was not on free territory. Even muscle tensed as he tried to figure out just who owned this spit of land, but nothing came up. Damn. He had been gone too long. The red mutt was willing to bet that he was not going to be lucky and get greeted by an envoy who thought he was his father. That had happened many times in various cities, and almost all of them had tried to kill him the next night in fear that he would try to usurp (or rightfully claim) his place in whatever situation they had. Dammit, he just wanted to go home.
Wary now, and still grumpy, Lykaios started west. If he was lucky, he would cross out of the borders before anyone noticed him. If history was any indicator, however, he was definitely not lucky.