It didn't even feel like spring had arrived yet, even though the temperatures were starting to rise. The rain had slowed, a lot of the snow had already melted away from the lands of Abaven. But Bass still felt cold. After everything that happened in the winter he wasn't quite ready to welcome a new year. The warm sun hardly calmed his stiff muscles, a few more white hairs sprouting through his brown facial markings. Even though he still had a few good years left, he felt like the last season had aged him more than he had hoped. Two of his friends were dead, and his ex mate showed up and tried to act like everything was normal. He had screamed at her, had sworn his head off like some young, angst riddled teenager. He couldn't help it, the suppressed emotions from all those years when she had been away just boiled over and spilled over the sands between them. And then his daughter came to him with what felt like a mid-life crisis, making him feel even worse. Was it because he wasn't there for them through their lives? Sparrow seemed to resent him for having a pack and the pack itself. He didn't get that, didn't she see that he was doing this all for them? That was the one of the only reasons why he patrolled the borders today, why he got up every morning to do what he needed to do. This pack was his family, and if Sparrow couldn't see that... perhaps leaving the pack was best for her.
Letting out a sigh, he crossed from the rapids into the plains once again, his eyes landing on a very familiar form sitting at his borders. Bass froze for a moment, on one paw he was happy to see that not all his friends were dead, but on the other... The man had once again disappeared without so much as a word, something that wolves in his life seemed to make a habit of. Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders forward and closed the distance between the two. There was hardly any emotion on his face, just a tired and drawn out look coating his features. "Glad to see not everyone I know is dead. But how would I have known?" Bass asked as he approached, his golden eyes on the older man. He had to be the same age as Hansel was, and it was starting to show. While his words were hostile sounding, his own vocals were low and each word spoken slowly. He didn't want to fight, not again. He sat down at his oldest friend's side, looking over his lands from this perspective. He said nothing else, just enjoyed the warmth that radiated off of Allen.
"Speech"
|
