Brother, Brother

Just when he'd thought he'd been so close to home, his dreams were dashed when he became lost in a red-rock, barren wasteland. It had been and interesting place at first, the rocks painted in such a way that created an illusion to the eyes - it looked like there was water everywhere. But upon further exploration, there was none, no water anywhere. So Exodus had kept moving, trying to leave the desolate, rocky land behind. However, with every rock and crag identical in appearance, it had been easy to get lost. He'd spent too much time there, climbing rocks, uncertain whether he was following a straight line or not. By the time he reached a sandy, dried-out riverbed, he was exhausted from hunger and dehydration. Despite the season, he'd found no moisture to satisfy his thirst in this barren western land. However, he was certain that if he followed the riverbed, he might eventually come to a source of water. Well, he wasn't sure, but it was all he had to go off of, and being alone, he knew he had to trust his instincts. He had nothing else right now.

Fatigue plagued him as he wandered the sandy river-bed. There were no thoughts about his previous moons alone. None of the things he'd learned applied now. Had he been foolish to traverse the desert alone, without knowing his way, without a guide? As he became more and more light-headed, his body feeling heavy, his throat dry and tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, the more he believed he'd acted foolishly setting out on his own like this. But he'd been so ready to return home, if only he'd known the way... Suddenly, he caught scent of water. He paused in his movements, trying to steady his legs as he breathed in the scent. It wasn't a trick... he knew what he smelled was true. There was moisture somewhere ahead.

Inspired, Exodus continued on, but his body had already begun to slow down, to give out. Hew as too tired, too thirsty, too hungry. And despite the season, the sun still glared down on him, and the sand beneath his paws was relentless. At last, he felt he couldn't go on, his legs buckling beneath him, his paws throbbing and burnt from the sand. He flopped to the ground onto his side, panting heavily. The sun was beginning to fall in the sky, but it was still too hot, his coat built to endure the coldest weather. His eyes began to blink closed, wondering what he would do if he couldn't keep himself from sleeping; would he ever wake up again? Trying his best to stretch his limbs and keep his eyes peeled, he felt himself being pulled slowly into unconsciousness. It was then that someone appeared, looking him over and speaking in words he did not recognize.

The wolf seemed concerned, but Exodus didn't recognize him, and he wasn't sure if he was hearing right. Was this wolf speaking in a manner he should understand, or was his mind just too far gone from the heat and exhaustion? Weakly, the boy lifted his head and looked up to the wolf, his multi-colored gaze focused on him. "Please, help," he whispered roughly, his throat dry and raspy, "I don't think I can keep going on my own." All he could do now was hope this wolf understood, and would help him. Oh, why had he ever gone off on his own? He should have known better. Laying his head back down tiredly, the only thing he could do now was wait, hoping that help would come to him - if one wolf had found him, perhaps there would be others, perhaps they could help him get to his paws, find some water and help with the burning sensation in the pads of each paw.