Film Burn

The yearling, rather disenfranchised with how baby-obsessed his parents had become, had opted for other things to do beyond Fate's Summit. Andor believed he now knew every uninteresting inch of his home mountain, and even parts beyond it. This was, of course, useful for knowing what things to monitor and all that, but the temptation to explore far beyond it had grown ever since the Great Change.

He knew the Change only as something that the gods had done. He did not know why. He did not even understand why anything had needed to change at all, nor what he was meant to do with it. Though Mother seemed to know it deep within her, Andor was left wanting for more. He wanted to know the beyond and what suffering the Change had caused. In fact, he had named it exactly so that he might have a name to call it when he found strangeness beyond their mountain.

It was dangerous to venture this far beyond his homeland in his form. Though well-fed, Andor was barely more than a child. His musculature had yet to form fully to an adult stature. He appeared gangly and wiry. Not all of his siblings were like this, and he had started to fear that he would always be like this, always lesser.

The beach he found had no answers. There were only the rotting carcasses of a sea bird and what looked like a large fish, luring him with the stench in this awful heat. He was not made for it, and had quickly taken shelter under a great palm tree. He had never seen one before.

He panted heavily, his legs sprawled out as his body struggled with unfamiliar temperatures.
He was not familiar with heat stroke, but was dangerously close to it.

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Ilya and water had never been particularly good friends. This was one fact he recalled very clearly, given that he had woken up on an island. It was also something he’d quickly had to deal with; he’d ended up much too close to a pack’s territory. Luck, a low tide, and a series of rocky outcrops had been essential in getting this far.

But in this sweltering heat, even he was willing to make a truce with the sea. The cool, clear waves came up to his chest as he waded through the shallows. His thick coat kept out much of the water, but the drops that did trickle onto his skin were more of a relief than a nuisance. (He was definitely not ready to try swimming again just yet, though.)

Distracted by the salty spray, he did not notice the scent of another wolf until he was much too close to slip away unnoticed. He paused, panting.

He picked out a small, lanky shape in the shade of a tree. A young wolf—smaller than him, and alone. Not likely to pursue him. As he came closer, however, he realized that the younger wolf didn’t look so good. Panting and sprawled out as he was, it wasn’t hard to guess what might be wrong.

“Hey,” Ilya called out tentatively. “Don’t you want to go for a dip? It’s a lot nicer in the water.”

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(( Tossing Ilya in here, I hope that’s okay! ))
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Of course!

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Like a fever dream, his mind grew fuzzy with confusion. At first, Andor found a very strong need to take a long nap. He was in and out of sleep, panting heavily every time he was awake. The sound of the waves in the distance lulled him. His paw pads were hot and sweaty, but it was not enough to cool him.

There was very little wind. What was there seemed to come directly from the sea itself, whipping sand and salt into his dark fur.

A voice drifted toward him from a dream. “Mmh,” Andor moaned, rolling half-heartedly as if to right himself, and apparently lacking the strange to do even that. Slowly, he lifted his head and opened his eyes, glazed with sleep. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Squinting at the sand between his feet, the young wolf pushed himself up and onto wiggly legs.

He felt a little sick and dizzy, but it wasn't so bad. The wolf in front of him was unfamiliar both in smell and sight. He was bigger, but his stance didn't strike Andor as dangerous.

“A dip,” he parroted, lumbering forward from the shade, panting. “Hot,” he murmured.

Despite the small distance to the water, it felt like it took ages to get to it. When at last the cool water licked at his front paws, a sense of immediate relief washed over him. When he was to his elbows, the yearling turned around, his tail waving as he searched the face of the stranger in mild confusion and gratitude.

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“Better, right?” He smiled in the way canids did, with his jaws slack and tongue lolling. “Try and stay in the water for now. This heat’s gnarly.”

He’d learned that the hard way himself at one point. In the hazy fog of his memories, he could pick out glimpses of different places he’d travelled. He remembered a dry, rocky grassland along a warm coast, and the wicked sunburn that followed. The jungle was definitely new to him, though.

He tilted his head at the stranger. He was vaguely surprised to see a yearling all alone—though maybe not too much so.

“I’m Ilya,” he offered. “Where are you from?”

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“Much better,” Andor admitted, feeling the soothing nature of the constant lapping of the waves.

To be honest, he had never actually been to the ocean. At least, not like this. He was much more used to the fresh waters of the lakes and rivers that ran near his homeland. The air here felt thick with sweat and salt. His very breath felt heavier, yet the water held him buoyant as though he were light as a feather. It was an odd sensation, and a very needed one in his current state.

“Yeah I.. I didn't expect it I guess,” he said to the dappled stranger. Though he was grateful to the other, he was slowly able to regard him as more than a "being in existence" as his mind unclouded with every washing wave. The male was well-built. Andor had to look up at him, even at a slight distance. Though he had a plainness about him, there was also a spark in his eye that the young wolf couldn't place. It was almost instantaneous that the yearling felt at ease, sensing no danger from his rescuer.

“I'm Andor,” offered in return. “I'm of Vanderfell Woods; the mountain is called Fate's Summit there. It's to the south beyond the great tree.” The brown boy gestured with his nose, half-shouting as the surf continued to batter their speech.

“And you? Ilya — you knew just what to do in this heat. Where do you come from?” His dark eyes were alert and curious, fascinated by this helpful older male.

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Ilya followed the younger male’s gaze over the jungle canopy to the immense trunk with its sprawling branches, silhouetted against the jagged peaks in the distance. Cloaked in hazy blue and white, it was hard to tell just how far away it was. Fate’s Summit, the young wolf called it. An ephemeral world–far beyond the salty spray splashing against his legs.

But perhaps to Andor it was quite ordinary. Esmerelda had implied she awakened in this world, just as he had done. Yet it seemed that there were some who had been born here–wherever here was.

“A place called Voronezh,” he said. “It’s…far, I think.”

Very, very far.

“But it’s colder there. The first time I encountered this kind of weather was well after I left home—I was following the river all the way south to the sea. I definitely wasn’t prepared,” he admitted ruefully. “You just kind of learn these things as you go along.”

He didn’t expect the way the younger wolf regarded him. There was no fear, no wariness in Andor’s expression—just interest. Maybe even respect.

He didn’t think he’d done anything to deserve that, but it did feel nice. His tail swished in the cool water.

“Are you trying to get back home?”

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The name of Ilya's homeland sounded strange in his ears, carrying a collection of syllables he wasn't familiar with. “Never heard of it,” he confirmed, shrugging his shoulders.

Andor nodded, knowing well what it felt like to be unprepared for this maddening heat. While he had ventured beyond his homeland before, it was the first time he had wandered this far north. He hadn't been expecting things to become suddenly this moist and hot while much more temperate areas surrounded it. Such weather changes were among the nonsense that had occurred during the Great Change; he was still trying to piece together what it meant. The gods seemed to be having a big joke of things.

“Not really,” he answered, “I know the way back.” He answered this proudly, having only recently learned how to navigate this far from home. In his adolescence he was beginning to grow evermore confident, sometimes when he really shouldn't have been.

“Fate's Summit is a mountainous area. It's cold too,” he described. “There are parts of the peaks I haven't been to; the air is too thin up there.” Indeed, he wondered if even his mother had explored so steep the hills and snow-capped tops.

Rather abruptly, he dunked his head under the water, wetting himself completely and then rising again with a great silly shake that sent a shower of water spinning away from him. “Are you heading somewhere? Maybe I can direct!” Being useful to the more experienced was one of his favourite things.
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It was impressive how swiftly the yearling’s mood had rebounded. He was definitely feeling better now, which was good.

Still, the sun was high—and they couldn't stay in the water forever. Concern nagged at him; Ilya appreciated Andor’s confidence, yet he couldn’t help but worry regardless. It felt wrong to just abandon the lad—even if he didn’t think he needed any help.

Ilya tilted his head, thinking.

“Maybe you can show me the way to Vanderfell Woods? I'd like to see the mountains,” said Ilya. “…And I could use a change of climate.” All true, even if it wasn’t the main reason for his request.

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A wiser wolf might have shown worry over leading a stranger to his home. However, Andor was not wise. He also had been in a very prone position when Ilia had found him, and now was feeling a heck of a lot better. It was without hesitation that the young wolf blurted, “Of course!” He jumped up a bit from the water, which made a splash, but immediately wobbled on his feet.

“Whoa,” he said, surprised at himself. His vision blurred a bit, and then for a moment blackness seem to cover his eyes in fuzzy nothing before the bright sands returned to his view. “Heh, dizzy,” the yearling said sheepishly, frowning for a moment before taking big, slow steps back toward the beach.

They would have to take it a bit slow. Andor felt thirsty, and the water he was standing in was no good for drinking.

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I can start a new one at Vanderfell if you'd like? Or you can! Just PM me if you want me to start

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Concern flashed in Ilya’s eyes as the younger wolf wobbled on his feet.

“Easy there,” he said. He came up beside the yearling in case he was about to fall, offering a shoulder to lean on. He really needed to get somewhere cooler, and soon. And something to drink. Water was essential in a climate like this.

Ilya looked across the dunes of the beach to the edge of the jungle, breathing in the strange smells. Salt predominated, and he couldn’t hear much over the crashing of the waves. But with so many lush-leaved trees, there had to be a source of freshwater somewhere.

“There should be a river or pond nearby,” Ilya said. “Let’s head there first.” He set off at a gradual pace.

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Sounds good, I can start!!

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