Don't Think I Don't Think About It

He was a shell, driven to continue marching only by instinct. He wasn’t about to go jumping off any cliffs right now; been there, done that. No instead he continued on his death march, perhaps even worse than his self-imposed prison from earlier…   At least then when he had been starving himself he hadn’t been forcing himself to move too much, now he was running on his last legs. Each step was slow and shaky.

He passed through territories new and old alike with a cold numbness, ebony gaze passed over structures and wolves alike with a blank unfeeling stare. He had no destination, no goal just motion, always motion.

He had not gone north though… he still couldn’t face it. Couldn’t bring himself to look at the lands that had once been his home. They were more of a hell now, taunting him with all he had lost, all he had been forced to lose.

Well the endless marching was going to end today one way or another… though Kyung was unaware of that. A scent he had long thought forgotten assaulted his senses and for the first time in a while the melanistic boy stopped. His gaze flashed to his right and despite himself the fur along his spine rose up, lips curled back and a growl clawed its way out of his throat.

How dare he show up now!