'Round and 'round you'll go, up and down, never slow

Had either of his parents felt this way? When they had gone on their own pilgrimages did they ever look out across the world and long for what they once knew? Not that Beauregard regretted his decision to remain in this land. Or his decision to follow Wren. The potential for adventure and a wealth of knowledge to be had outside of his homeland was what truly enticed him… But he did wish he could send word back to them. Sending Trill was out of the question too… he'd be lost without her. The bird was companion and navigation, a part of him in a way. They completed one another.

Beau wasn't sure how long he'd been staring out at the waves when a sense of unease washed over him. His ears twitched, uncertain if he really heard anything beyond the lapping waves of the ocean. Beauregard shifted on his paws, started when his pale blue gaze landed on a man a bit older than he himself was.

The stranger sat within an opening of the vessel, much like the opening of the mine, and appeared to be silently watching him. His face bore an expression puzzling to the yearling ; it was unreadable. His ears lowered slightly, the first signs of unease as Beau offered a small smile. "Greetings," The ashen cream-furred male called to the stranger. "Apologies, I didn't notice any sign of others nearby in the snow… Do you live here? What is this… thing?" He gestured at the vessel they were standing on.