The Windward Boardwalk
Season of Spring, Day 89, 513 AV
Somewhere, off in the distance, one would be able to make out the sounds of high-pitched animal calls of a snow ferret.
The young Alvanthian boy muttered to himself quietly, under his breath, beneath his scarf, as he eyed the pointedly annoying snow ferret sitting on top of an icestone arch, all-knowing, invincible and utterly triumphant.
Chev stood, hands on his hips, glaring at Frosty, while the amused snow ferret chattered happily. Chev could just feel the animal’s mocking thoughts being directed at him. Chev was at the mercy of the little ferret, as they both seemed to understand that Chev would never leave Frosty alone, no matter how vexing he managed to get, for the amount of affection Chev radiated never seemed to run dry.
“Frosty, please. Let’s go. Father’s waiting,” he pleaded, but to no avail. Adamant to the core, Frosty had no such plans to end his fun little game—which, more accurately defined, was watching as Chev haggled and begged for his compliance.
Chev bit his lower lip, unsure of what cards to play next. As his gaze drifted, a tall, lanky blob transformed into a tree. The branches barely swayed in the wind, and it looked stable enough. However, the Windward Boardwalk was known for being well-wooded, and Chev hated to think that he might end up harming the rare greenery.
Still, Frosty seemed to dance in his peripheral vision, squealing like a child watching a magic show.
He made little steps towards the trunk of the tree. After getting a much closer look, the tree seemed unbalanced and incredibly difficult to climb. The highest branch was just barely within reach—if he stood upon the tips of his toes. Frosty watched with bated breath.
Attempting to size up the tree, he awkwardly patted the bark with both of his hands. The Avanthal winds caused the branches high up the tree to sway, sending little chips of dried bark fluttering down like autumn leaves.
He winced slightly as a loud squeal escaped Frosty’s throat. He caught sight of an Alvanthian couple boring holes into his floundering figure, brows furrowed and lips curled into frowns.
Their petrifying gazes seemed to act as a trigger to action, as Chev precariously began to scale the wooden tower, lips pressed together in concentration. He swayed unsteadily, and his progress was slow. However, he reached higher and higher, until he was level with Frosty, who stared back at him with beady eyes that seemed to be telling him: Try me.
He gritted his teeth and, hanging onto the base of a branch, reached over the (now seemingly wide) gap between the two and swung.
The snow ferret flitted out of reach just as he went for a decisive grab, causing him to lose his balance once more. With a terrified yelp, he shifted perilously, latching onto the tree with both hands once more. Frosty guffawed.
Once more, he reached over to Frosty, encouraged by the fact that he’d moved closer. He took a deep breath—and lunged.
He’d over-calculated his pounce, and he succumbed to gravity. He tumbled gracelessly from his position on the tree, landing on his back, the wind escaping him. He laid on the blanket of snow, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and suffering from the sound of the snow ferret shrieking in delight. |
