Noah
Noah stayed motionless, but his eyes did flutter open once more. He watched as Korbin's body puffed with what he guessed was rage. There was no smugness to Noah's actions, and he kept his mind as neutral and blank as possible, as to not display anything over the attuned bond. The other birds ruffled, too, but Noah stayed stock still. He had no intention of leaving.
When Noah had killed a man out in the tundra, and was dealing with the emotional and physical stress of such a thing, Korbin was there. He had encouraged Noah to do something, to continue the hunt if that was what he needed. Noah did need that, to keep busy and to press forward. He was a man full of grit, but he had needed to be reminded. Perhaps Korbin needed to be reminded, too, that there was still meaning to his life. He was a healer, hunter, friend--all of these things designed to help other people. Korbin might not want to help, to be helped, but Noah still wondered if that would be good for the raven.
But grief takes time. Noah would not press it, not force the boy to do what he did not wanted--but he would still stay.
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
And detached as boats to the dock?
