Strangers Like Me

He broke from his musings to address his father with a respectful bow. “Apollyon.” He greeted formally then smiled as he answered his father’s question. “When I was a year old I would train myself on Abaven’s rapids. Dry rocks are far easier to navigate than smooth boulders.” He said and glanced briefly at the pack of bones at his father’s feet. “Do you need help?” He offered but stood in place waiting to be given permission.

A faint howl caught his ears and diverted his attention. Something eerily similar to a wolf’s call but without any purpose whistled through the mountains. He released a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, his body feeling oddly weightless in the chill mountain air. He looked to his father, a silent question playing over his features. Had he felt it too? Did he know what it was?