Life was a funny, fickle thing. The impermanence of life was hardly something that was lost on him, but likewise it was hard for him to not at least somewhat regret after leaving his homelands. It'd been worth it to follow Balsam, to try to keep an eye on his closest friend... but what had come of his efforts? Balsam was gone, he'd gotten his friend captured (and subsequently she'd been released). He didn't regret the time he'd spent since then, wandering with Eris and Oxide and Casper, but the feeling that something was missing was frustratingly unshakable. What was a Songa without their tribe? Who was he without his family, his group? He was still trying to figure that one out, and he knew it was something he'd have to do on his own.

Though he wasn't exactly a fan of water, he'd swam all the way out here yesterday - quite a long journey, given his relatively short limbs - and he'd been exploring the island ever since. There weren't only trees to climb here, but buildings too, no doubts a remnant of a world long past. Nimble little limbs carried him easily over the rubble, and he leapt now onto the railing of a floor on the second story of the crumbling resort. Though he was high above ground, at a height that would no doubt spell his demise if he happened to stumble, Sota knew he wouldn't lose his balance. Carefully the tribal-marked wolf continued along the railing, his ears flicking occasionally, listening to the sound of birdsong as they flew in and out of the exposed roof above him.

It was a cold but bright day, the sun giving off its weak rays of light. The air was still, however, and so the harshnest of this winter was not immediately felt here. Only when he walks is he reminded of the chilly air as he seems easily through his thin pelt. It is an unpleasant experience, but so is survival as a lone wolf, sometimes.

This time, his travel brings him to a small shore, a little island just a short swim away. It is easy to see from this distance the human structures and overgrown forest that's begun to take over the abandoned buildings, a sight that lures the traveler forth--until the chilling tides bring him back to shore.

The waters are too cold. But human ruins are something he's always enjoyed studyingq, and he hasn't seen any in too long. Oh, whatever, I'll just make a fire afterwards. And so, he walks in.

On the other side, the shivering man shakes the sea water from his pelt and starts going towards the nearest tree. He visibly shakes as he looks for tinder and some fire starters, stripping bark off of a tree and gathering small sticks into a pile, collecting all the necessary pieces to get the fire started and keep it going.

The more harsh lands of the north were certainly not suited for Sota, which was why he was here. The swim to Daager Isle in itself had been deeply unpleasant, thanks to the water's chill, but the journey had been brief enough that he'd been able to withstand it. He'd merely spent an hour or so out in the sun before his coat began to  dry properly, and today he felt as good as new. It truly felt good to go out on his own again; as much as he cared for his companions, and as much as he missed life among the Songa, he had grown used to a more solitary existence. Coming out here to explore on his own was helping to remind him of that.

Or.. at least he thought he was alone. There had been no other signs of life throughout the night, so when he finally found one - in the form of a noise somewhere nearby - his interest was piqued. Quietly the small wolf leapt down off the railing, avoiding the sections of floor that looked less stable. Swift paws allowed him to leap over rubble as he eventually navigated down toward the edge of the building. Just as he'd expected, a stranger was a bit ways out from the structure, though what he was doing Sota wasn't quite sure. "Hello there!" He called out, his voice betraying that he wasn't a child despite his unusually small stature.

He was almost done--all he needed was a sharp rock to cut up a part of the log in order to make the fire plow. Thankfully there were some rocks by the shore--'Hello there!' A masculine voice, close by and clearing calling to him. The soaked man turns to find what looks like a kid or teen, what with his small size, but the adult voice says otherwise. “Oh, hello,” he greets with a smile, tail slightly wagging behind him. The man looked rather exotic, with purple-grey undersides, zebra-like stripes, and unique markings, to name a few. It was rather handsome, especially compared to Ryan's single-shaded black, sleek coat. “I'm just making a fire. I don't do well in the cold. Catch a cough often.” he turns away to continue his search for a sharp rock by the shoreline, welcoming the other's presence in the way his tail remains lowered, ears relaxed, and eyes looking elsewhere. “Would you like to join me when it's made?” he temporarily looks to the other to ask.

The stranger's response was friendly, which pleased Sota quite deeply. Most wolves he'd met since coming to this continent had been generally friendly, and though he wasn't quite as wary of them as he'd once been.. well, to say he wasn't still being careful would be untrue. He returned Ryan's greeting with a faint smile as he took a few long strides toward him - at least comparatively long, considering his short legs. "A fire?" Interesting. A bit terrifying at the same time, but Sota was intrigued. He was hardly the crafty sort but he was interested in what sorts of things other wolves could make, certain he could learn a thing or two from them, even if he never applied them directly to the same craft...

"Joining you would be lovely. I've never explored this island before; I just arrived last night. Are you familiar with this place?" He remembered suddenly he hadn't offered a bow, but as the seasons drew on he was recognizing that few wolves displayed the same sort of careful manners that the Songa had ingrained in him. Though abandoning tradition wasn't something he did very well, he was trying to integrate, certain he appeared strange enough on his own that he didn't need to continually draw attention to himself with his other unusual mannerisms.. despite how much his body was urging him to do so.