Paws take on a life of their own as he paces the perimeter of his old mountain home. He should not be there, he should have never come back, yet there he was; older, wiser, and somehow still stupid. Head tosses as a low snarl bubbles within the caverns of his throat. WHY? Why could he not pull himself away from the border? He was practically begging for trouble by being there and that was not his style. He had stayed away for so long. He gave her the life she deserved by leaving her to that other fellow. He had been selfless. He had done right. So why was he filled with dread? Why did he feel torn asunder, the bowels of his heart oozing guilt and remorse? Years he had traveled. He had saw lands upon lands and yet he never settled. He never found one to cause him to pause and as such he was always alone. Perhaps he always knew that this was to be his punishment. Forever to roam in despair since it was this very same wanderlust that had shredded his Dragon oh so long ago.
Head jerks to the side as he inhales deeply, his sensitive nose delicately picking out her scent from the rest. The perfume was so heady that he stumbles onto his belly, burying his nose into the bush. The agony that rises within his chest is so sharp that he nearly whines with the brutal way it eviscerates him. Closer. Unbidden movement catches him off guard and before he knows it he is on his back. Rolling. Rolling. Pressing his mass into the scent of her, desperately trying to meld into it, to become one with her once again if only by proxy. A keening cry is conceived but before it is born he rises to his paws unsteadily. He would be damned if he broke. So with panic filled eyes he bolts yet again, yet this time it is not to unknown lands far far away. This time he is much closer. Far away to make a tracker earn his keep yet close enough that he might scent her yet again.
So burdened was his mind that he practically raced to the riverside. His feverish mind whispered that he should wash his fur then obscure his scent. That he needed to get away. That he needed to see her. To touch her, to feast upon her lovely body and drown within her gaze. No. No she was anothers. She was not his. BULLSHIT. She would always belong to him and he to her. She was his Dragon. She was his heart and soul. SHE WAS LIGHT, and he darkness. With those last thoughts his teeth grit and with resolution to leave her be as he promised to himself long ago he leaves the water. Hmm, when did he enter the water? No matter for at that precise moment another scent assaults him, one wholly unfamiliar yet it…it…
Knowing that he should go but also knowing that he would not leads him forward. Satellite ears are alert as he seeks out the appealing cologne that has him confused. It faintly smelled of her…perhaps pack? Yet it…oh my. He stills suddenly as the lad comes into sight. He is strong and mature. His height is comparable yet his body held more mass, maybe muscle? Yet it was the mask on his face…a mask so like his Dragons that made him stone. If he was torn before now he was defeated and grieving. He must surely be his Dragon’s son. Only she had a mask like that and the boy even had hints of her coloring. All of which meant that she settled down. That she moved on. A swallow is given. Then another as he forces his throat to work but it has shut down. Swollen it is with emotions that even his eyes burn, his body trembles and a pant begins. The world seemed to close in on him and it made his skin tingle like it was alight with a thousand fire ants.
”You seem troubled.”
He did not intend to speak to him, yet there was his rough bass. It wavered in the air between them like the shaggy fur of the mountain goats or the gritty mass of the sand at the bottom of the river. It was not nice sounding, yet it was strong despite the full blown panic and despair that now filled him. If the lad did not respond then he will leave him. He will find a way to end this torment one way or another even if it meant that his blood must feed the earth.