Perhaps he was more like his father than even he knew; after all, they were both prone to go into and beyond the great yonder of the outside world. It created a great loss within Yoska. He was still acutely aware of the lost time with his mother and father, and at times, he found it difficult to not dwell on thoughts of them. He felt, most particularly, a longing for his parents' return, not for himself however, but rather for his younger siblings. He knows Tuari has found herself something to keep her occupied, or at least, she has no reason to follow him about and vise versa but Jinan? Luk? They were as lost as ever, and Yoska could not hope to realign them alone. It created a loss within him, yes, but it was not a hole filled with grief and anger. Instead, he did his best to fill the void with hope. At the end of the day, Yoska never knew just how badly his father wanted to return. He never knew that in his time away from Taviora, he and Amutaq had been most alike.

He is often found roaming the woods, oblivious to those that loiter about him. There are few in Taviora he can call a friend, though he endlessly desires the simplicity of company. It is a lonely existence, perhaps, but he has come to find his own company enjoyable; after all, he has an imagination that spans further than the forests ever could. He watches the way the snow melts and breaks apart into the dirt, from which new grass grows and begins to tower from. It is a cycle, and he watches it with utmost curiosity. From the tree line, he can watch across towards the prairie of Asteraia. There, he is content to bask in the spring sun, watching the far off movement of spring hares as they bound about, testing their legs. It is a peaceful life above all else. There is not a lack of drama, he is sure, but he simply not involved, a consistent pariah on the outskirts of it all. He is no bigot, however, to any cause or action. He is simply not a part of it.

And so, he has no particular plans. He merely lies in wait, drifting between rest and play as he bounds atop a locust or chews into the sticks that have broken free from the trees. It is simple and it is easy and yet, it is entirely disrupted by the arrival of a scent he knows all too well. The aroma strikes a chord within the hollow of his chest. It makes him pause for several moments, as rigid as ever. His ears are tall, tail waving uncertainly and yet, within a split moment, he bounds off into the forests' perimeter once more. He will be quick to find him, and he will be obvious about it.

It takes him several minutes to navigate through the twisting nature of the forest, forever following the scent of his father and brother. He is careless with his steps, stomping through leaves and cracking sticks with every step. He has no time to worry about such folly things; he only falls silent and cautious when he finally breaks the treeline and intercepts his father. He cuts across his path several feet ahead of him, stopping entirely as if suddenly constructed of stone. He watches. He stares. He waits for something he does not even understand himself. All he knows is that he feels relief wash over him. Amutaq is well - he is fed, groomed, and yet Yoska cannot help that his eyes glisten with a particular taste of hopelessness. Zeteri is not with him. He does not wear her scent so closely anymore. And so, he merely waits, hoping his father can answer the questions he cannot ask.