Noah
Spending the majority of a season in Torchline had thrown off a few things for the hunter. Firstly, hunting. He had left his usual group of people he provided for with what he thought would be enough to make it through, but a few families ran out. He spent a great amount of time on the tundra, now, because of it. Countless hours and back-breaking days harvesting enough food to keep people afloat. He was so thankful for Chulane's ningo breeding -- without that, there were a lot of people Noah cared for that would have starved.
Today was not a hunting day for others, however. Today was a day for Noah to breathe (or so, he hoped), before he needed to dive head first into his government duties. So, he walked. He walked along the tundra with wide open eyes and keen ears, but tried to relax his racing mind and his restless heart. His cloven hooves sunk into the snow as the wind beat against him, driving him further and further into his own mind. It was a continuous, strenuous process for him to unwind and remove himself from his own overwhelming thoughts--but it was worth it.
Hours passed before Noah found himself wandering, almost aimlessly, several hundred yards away from the road back to the Citadel.
Chulane
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
And detached as boats to the dock?
