Season of Summer, Day 18, 510 AV
The trail was cold; washed away by a brief summer rain not three days previous. Cathan knew it. He had continued his search, despite knowing better. Three days he had followed the forest path southward, only to find the ground bare of tracks. There were no signs of the riders, which may or may not, have followed the same route as the kelvic. In fact there was no evidence humans had taken the path in recent days whatsoever.
What he came across were the tracks of hares and other mammals, neither of which he paid much attention to when not hunger forced him to waste precious hours hunting. Once he had caught the scent of wolves, but deciding to avoid conflict had moved on as quick as he could. Running ten hours a day or more, he should have caught up by now. Another thing he was well aware off, yet tried to ignore. There were a lot of things he tried to brush aside. The itching of the half healed spear wound in his side, the memory of a bound mate he had lost much to early. The fact that he had been unable to help. All of it filled him with an anger he had never experienced in the past, an anger which drove him forward at the break of each new day until he couldn't run anymore. Till the hot burning in his gut was the only thing that let him move at all. At least until he couldn't anymore.
Ten days after the confrontation with the bandits, Cathan had finally given up. For the first time in days he rested. Resigned he lay at the bank of a creek, the runnel almost to small to deserve that name. Around him the morning mist started to rise, carried away by a warm southern wind. Not certain how long he had been lay still, the kelvic finally rose when the sun was staying high in the sky, its golden light falling through the high treetops, paining a mosaic of light and shadow on the forest floor. The breeze ruffling his fur Cathan finally started to move, aimless wandering between the trees.
He had hunted in the past, for fur and not for food and never for himself. There had always been someone to tell him what to do and in the few days he was alone, he had realized how little he knew about living in the woods. Relying on his senses he had found carcass more often than prey to hunt, the rare rabbit aside he had managed to run down. For the first time since the assault, the kelvic looked around, taking in his surrounding.
In the distance he heard the howling of a wolf. Instead of turning the way he would have done mere days ago, Cathan's ears perked up and he continued toward the direction the sound has come from. Strong muscles moved under his grayish brown fur as he slunk forward, careful to take in any sounds around him. He had never talked with a wolf, but he had grown up with dogs and knew he could understand them well enough. And in the end, wasn't any company better than being alone?