He twisted his hips and it rotated the rest of his body, managing to face the ridge above, rotating his palm so he can spin on his momentum rather than dislocate his hand and planted it into the rock above, sticking down, he spun around 180 degrees and planted his other hand, panting deeply, he crawled to the top and openly laughed, he laughed for a long time, as in much longer than he expected, not thinking about his tiredness or the sun being near the horizon, he just wandered along the top of the ridge for a change for about two hours, giving up his stealth act for the rest of the evening as he walked, more sauntered atop the ridge, lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t realise where he was or what time it was, seeing as the moon was out, and he needed to rest for the next day.
Finding a small cave just big enough for one man after a short climb higher up, he rolled out his bedroll and crawled into it, out of the cold and wind. He considered his father and what he would be up to, probably turning in for bed after a hard day’s business. Due to this he got to thinking about his life and what transpired earlier today, who was his father talking about when he mentioned not turning out like someone, he knows it had an m at the start, but what he wasn’t sure who he spoke of, seeing as he couldn’t have said me, Valdoran’s father? He didn’t see it as possibility of his boring father being a criminal, not in a million years. Despite all of this, he wondered if his father sent him away for a reason other than not wanting him any more?
Everything that took place in his life was thrown into question, was it possible that his father wanted to prevent a dark spiral because he didn’t want another boring old man in Symenestra, overall he’d fallen asleep before he could conclude his argument, drifting into a deep and tired sleep before he could consider another possibility for his father’s real intentions, maybe he just left it at he loathed his son, but no matter, Valdoran was not to return to Symenestra, much to his dismay, he was never going to see his father again, the girl he’d been sweet on just a few days earlier and stole a kiss from, or any of his friends ever again.
He hoped during his sleep, while uncomfortable on the cold hard ground, still had him less concerned about himself and more about his past and what he decided upon in his relatively short life. His theft although wrong was him, and he felt that as this was part of him he needed to keep doing it, to keep going, despite himself, the crime, the potential to get caught, all of it, Valdoran was going to become truly great, and as a result, may be killed, may be worked to death or imprisoned, but he was vowing to try and become the best he could be. He wasn’t able to sleep well with all of the new thoughts and revelations running through his head. He awoke quickly and before dawn, he turned in his sleep and had a sharp stone jab him in his side.
He rose and rolled up his bedroll, taking another few mouthfuls of his bruka given to him by his father, sitting with his legs dangling from the cave mouth and dropping down onto the ledge once more, crawling back under the ridge and continuing on his journey in the cold crisp morning mountainous air, which slowly chilled him once more since he was out of his insulated warm air, into the frozen wastes that made up Kalea once more, to finish his journey, wherever he considered would be a good place to stop. He didn’t know if that was the next city, the city after, or wherever that may be. He felt like he needed to get far enough away from his father to help him cope with having a bad son. |