Boundaries

Chapter 3

Orion traipses along the edge of his families' territory, his feet leading him upon a trail that he's walked seemingly a thousand times before. He likes it out here, on The Edge. No one bothers him. No one looks at him.

He likes being able to transform into his wolf, which he secretly still thinks is really cool, and play and explore and be himself. But most of all he likes the quiet.

It's lonely, but Orion doesn't understand the concept of loneliness. Having lived in a state of perpetual isolation his whole life, he doesn't know any different.

His feet pause for a moment, his ears twitching toward the sound of splashes in the stream below.

He glances over, seeing glimpses of the water flash between the spaces in the trees, dancing like fairies in the afternoon sunshine. He hears the splashing again and smiles to himself.

He walks faster now, wondering what could be down there. A fish perhaps? Or a bird?!

His mind reminds him to tread carefully, the boundary line of his territory now dangerously close. What lays beyond is forbidden to him, it always has been and the river has always marked The Edge. He can hear his fathers steady, stoic voice in his head.

"Keep the river in sight, you'll be alright."

But now, the river is right in front of him, and his fathers voice has never been so quiet.

He emerges into the sunlight, squinting as he shields his eyes from the blinding rays.

The ground slopes downward in a soft decline, meeting the gentle trickling stream, and there, in the shallows of the water, is a boy.

Orion freezes in his spot, his eyes wide.

There are plenty of boys in his pack. But none of them look like this.

The people in Ironhill have a distinctive look to them. Hardy, strong and weathered, the people in Ironhill wear clothes that are tough and expressions that are tougher. But this boy is different.

He's...soft. And light.

This is a Bluewood boy.

The enemy, his mind supplies, almost automatically.

But Orion only smiles at this.

The boy is cupping water between his hands and throwing it up into the air, creating small showers of glistening drops that soon fall back onto his upturned face. He giggles to himself before bending down and repeating the process all over again.

He doesn't look like the enemy. In fact, he doesn't look dangerous at all. A small voice in his head wonders that maybe, just maybe, he looks like a friend.

But friends have never been Orion's forte.

He steps forwards hesitantly, before making his way more determinedly to the waters edge.

"What are you doing down here?" He asks, his hands perched on his hips as he tries to make his voice sound just like his fathers.

The boys head turns gently to look at him, and Orion takes the time to really see him.

He's not wearing any shoes. His lightweight blue shorts are raggedy and torn at the bottom of the left leg. He has a white button down shirt tossed haphazardly over his shoulders, the two sides of the shirt flapping open around his torso. His hair is a soft brown and is sticking up in every direction.

His eyes are a brilliant, sparkling blue, and as he smiles, his cheek dents, an indentation forming at the side of his mouth. It's...a nice sight, Orion decides.