Open runs in the family - Printable Version

    Everyone else in the pack seemed to rejoice in the fact they were in their old territory. It was home, they had been birthed here and raised here. Kastra hadn’t though. He felt a disconnection from the happiness of others, instead feeling the sadness and longing fo the Nardir he had known. This may have been the original, but Nardir had changed and he had been born in the changes. He knew they were going to a new place once they left Nardir, but it didn’t stop him from mourning where he had called home. He had grown up there, came out of the closet there, buried Bulan there, last seen all his siblings there. Now his family was fractured, and he couldn’t do anything about it. If there were further up family members buried here, he barely felt anything for them. He hadn’t known them. He couldn’t mourn or understand someone he never knew.

    Mercury had changed the ranks, and had placed him into the rank of crafting. Kastra wasn’t sure he understood how the new guilds worked, but he wanted to work with it. It had been a change going from a border guard rank to crafting. He had decided to try and learn some, on his own. Even if he was no longer a warrior, he still felt it in his blood. He had tried crafting a spear of sort, like the humans usually had. It was small, shitty, and probably wouldn’t work if he tried to use it, but it was a start. The stone wasn’t sharp enough to pierce anything, and he figured out that it was pointless for a wolf to try and carry a spear in its mouth. He had fashioned his first spear head into a necklace instead. Now he had been collecting what rocks he could, trying to think of something to do. He could make little necklaces for the healers like Kestrel had, to help carry herbs. It would probably be a simple project, and it would be useful to the pack.

    Kastra found himself beside a lake, carrying a small bag on his sides that they had used for traveling. When it was no longer needed he had taken it, putting in items that he thought might be useful for crafting. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Beside the lake he tried to find smooth stones, slowly putting the weight into the pouches. The boy wadded into the shallows, trying to let the dirt and sand underneath settle so he could view what was under the water. This seemed like a good idea, to him. In his mind he was mourning those who had gone missing from the older Nardir. Kestrel was gone, and Puffin had left to start a dog pack. Part of him wondered if he should have gone with the dog, or maybe followed his brother or mother or father. He had been born into this pack, had grown up with everyone, yet for some reason he now felt like an outsider.