Stand Upon The Wreck

His trek back from the west was a quiet one, swift but leisurely as he kept a mental note to be back with Shiba before she decided he'd bailed without fulfilling his end of their bargain. Whatever that was. She had yet to decide what she wanted from him in return for all her healing efforts, and Mikko had no clue what he could do that could amount to what she did, but if there was something he couldn't do, it was leave her with empty paws. Not when she'd found enough worth in fixing his broken body to disappear from her own family.

A deep sigh worked its way involuntarily from hefty lungs, perhaps to break the silence settled upon these new--and strange--surroundings. Mikko's gaze was angled downward, but for once, it wasn't out of shame or reservation. As still as the air were odd, unnatural-looking objects strewn about the ground, some halfway buried by soil and others still loose atop its surface. Some of them, as he'd lean down to investigate, even smelled like iron despite not being stained (or obviously stained) with blood. Some were shiny, others dull and brittle. What was this place? And why did he feel like he should know?

"