Seneca Zatol was restless.
Since leaving home, he had not spent much time at all away from his brother. The silence of their makeshift den was agonizing at best and he felt the eerie stillness in the air, gnawing at him like like the flies in the heat of summer. Only the darkness of night would be his solace as it came, slowly moving to blanket the land and covering the sun from view and letting the moon's pale face be seen. Finally, he slipped from his hiding place into the night, grateful for the cooler air of night and the crowing of owls and buzzing of insects to interrupt the deafening silence. He slunk from the underbrush like a mouse, his pawsteps careful and quiet, his body pressed close to the earth. Brown eyes would dart to and fro, searching for nothing in particular, muscles tense as he searched the air for foreign scents.
For once in his life, he felt some semblance of safety since traveling with Gethin. And yet he was still on edge, twitchy and cautious as he moved, his eyes wide as his vision slowly adjusted to the darkness of night. For some time, his eyes would remain peeled on the sky, hardly even looking to where he was walking. Only when he felt his paw snag on an unseen tree root, sending him nearly stumbling over, would he cast his eyes down - but not before a childish giggle was elicited from his throat. Oh, tonight was going to be fun!
"Speech."
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