Wounds were still relatively fresh, littered across his body and the worst of it was a large pink scar knitting together upon his shoulder. It only seeped with fresh blood when the giant asked too much of his own body, stretching and extending his muscles too often when he should perhaps rest.
But he does not.
He visits the fields again, having a taste for the cold bite of the snow upon his ebony flesh and crunching beneath his wide, heavy feet. The morning was a gray, dull affair, with sunlight only a mere glimpse through an ocean of darkening cloud above.
The ghoul has little purpose, surmising that at some point he must follow his wife to the Summit, lingering sullenly for no real reason other than he happened to enjoy a dark mood.
As the great beast stalked across the blanket of white, he left behind him large footprints, deeply set. But those of his making were not the only prints in the snow, he noticed then, tilting his broad muzzle curiously at the much smaller set before him. Nose twitched, before he followed in their wake.

@Orson

I got this feeling, yeah, you know

Where I'm losing all control

code by corvus

Orson had been a member of Lorien Plains for almost half a moon now. It had been an adjustment, for sure, but he was adapting. Poor Orson had been subjected to so much turmoil in his life as of late - losing his sister, his mother going missing, losing his home and his title, and then ultimately losing his family by running away - that the relative quiet and stability of the plains had been good for him. He'd enjoyed the company of his brother's den, shared with all of his new children but he'd also taken to spending time with his friend and sleeping out in the open. He'd learned how to nest down in the grass without needing any sort of den, and he'd been taking some time to himself to learn about the world around him, and what interested him.

Orson had taken to wandering the nearby neutral territory. This whole region was one big sea of grass and it was hard to tell where the pride ended and the Celosia Fields began save for the scent markers. Orson had made it a point to pay attention, and his daily walkabouts were starting to pay off. The grasslands were rich with hoof prey, even in winter, and on that day he'd followed his nose after a size-able herd of impala. Their hoofed feet had cut an obvious trail in the snow which Orson had followed, their scent thick in the air. When he located the herd he was content to simply watch and observe. He was large enough to take one down, perhaps, but he had not the speed nor the experience to think about attempting it on his own. He did note, however, that there was formation in this area, two twin ridges of earth above a dry creek bed that cut between them. He was no master hunter and had only ever watched a hunt from afar, but in his mind he was strategizing. By making himself visible and loping towards the herd confidently, he was easily able to get them to flee right into the bottleneck. If there had been lions waiting there in hiding, perhaps it would be an excellent ambush spot? He made a mental note to perhaps return here someday with help.

All of this trundling about in the snow was leaving a visible trail. It hadn't even crossed Orson's mind to be less conspicuous, for it did not occur to him that anyone might care to want to track him. He'd been working very hard to push his family to the back of his mind and not to think of them. For he missed them dearly, and to dwell on this was painful. It was easier to assume that they had forgotten about him. It certainly seemed like it anyways.

---

Trade Experience
+5 Follow the scent of prey
+5 Practice herding prey
+10 Explore a territory and find something useful in it

The giant followed the trail before him, without knowing where or to whom it might lead. It was evidently feline, perhaps a cheetah or even a lion cub. Obsidian features pulled taught in concentration as he moved seamlessly into predator mode, not opposed in the slightest to hunting his own species if it staved off boredom.
But as he neared the intended quarry, the scent of it wafted across a bitter breeze and hit his airways with some surprise.
@Orson? His brow furrowed.
Cerulean stare searched the scenery with a little more interest as he marched onward, capturing the smell of impala too as a twin rock formation appeared ahead and the figure of his young son came into view.
"What are you doing here? Why are you not with the others?" The ghoul rumbled, approaching the child with a frown. The poor father that Ransom had been, or perhaps continued to be, he did not know that his son had absconded from the family group and made his home elsewhere. Too focused on healing his wounds from the fight and fulfilling his own wants and needs first.

I got this feeling, yeah, you know

Where I'm losing all control

code by corvus

As Orson loped casually towards the impala, he noted how they would run but there seemed to be no sheer panic. It was as if they could sense that the barely-teenaged cub was no threat to them, though they were still unwilling to let him get too close. But yet, he was able to drive them towards the formation and he was now determined to see how many impala and how far he could push them. And then, quite abruptly, there sounded countless alarm calls from the herd and they scattered, fast as lightning, leaping and bounding in sheer panic. Orson stopped in his tracks, staring after them in startled bemusement, his jowls hanging open in a light pant that sent puffs of frosty breath into the air before him. Am I really that scary? He was wondering, when suddenly there came a voice from behind him.

Orson's could have jumped right out of his skin at the shock, for he had been paying close attention to the herd but very little to the rest of his surroundings. But he managed to keep his hide on his bones as he whirled around to face... "Papa?!" He cried out in recognition at the great black beast that stood before him. But his elation at seeing @Ransom evaporated almost immediately and Orson's expression hardened at his father's questioning words.

He doesn't even know.... Orson's heart sank with the realization that it appeared as if Ransom has not even noticed his absence these last couple of weeks. The feelings that had compelled him to leave his family had been complex and confusing, but although he'd felt abandoned in a way, he'd still harbored the notion that his parents would worry about him... at least wonder where he'd gone if not outright go searching for him. But here Ransom, his own father, had not even noticed.

Orson's tail lashed at his ankles as he cast a cold glare at his father, with bright eyes in similar shades of ocean-like blue that watered with barely-contained emotion; or was it just the cold air? "What do you care?!" He snapped with a snarl in his voice.

The thundering hooves of a herd dispersing distracted the ghoul, cerulean gaze lifted above his child to watch the prey scatter. He beheld the creatures blandly and quite uninterested, unaware of the hunting lesson he had inadvertently and carelessly spoiled for his son.
The excited tone of @Orson's initial response did however bring about a half smile to the male's ebony features. Magnamously, the heathen offers a paw, willing to greet the boy in a light hug should he wish for it. Wondering if now he should begin to take a better interest in his brood, for they might prove to be more exciting now they were growing. Orson would appear to be well on his way to reach the giant's size.
But remarkably, his son does not retain the excitement of seeing his sire, instead Orson seemed to recoil at his father's words and Ransom narrowed his gaze as he looked down in surprise. Further cementing to his mind that children were all quite unreasonable.
He growled in response to the cub, ebony lips flickering up over his fangs. Though he remembers himself then and in a show of self control, smooths his expression into only an irritated frown. "Of course I care." He knows the words he should say and perhaps, part of him does care. Alabaster and Alizabeth had just made it so easy for him to opt out of any real responsibility. "Does your mother know where you are?"

I got this feeling, yeah, you know

Where I'm losing all control

code by corvus

Though @Ransom measured his response and reigned in his knee-jerk reaction, Orson felt the ripple of brief anger that emanated from the brute. He shrunk back from the growl and the flickering of fangs, averting his eyes in a show of submission. He felt the hot sting that threatened tears and he grit his teeth against it, biting the inside of his cheek and willing himself not to act like such a cry baby in front of his father. Though he was unhappy with his family, it didn't change the fact that the great black beast had always been seen as something akin to a legendary hero to the boy. His Papa could beat up anyone else's dad, he'd always been sure of that. No one in Amaryllis had a cooler, tougher, more badass Papa that Orson.

He glanced up at Ransom's words. Of course I care. A flood of validation washed over Orson and he felt his lower lip quivering. Why was he such a cry baby! He stifled a frustrated growl and he looked away once again, turning his back completely so that he could more effectively blink away his tears without Ransom seeing. He gave a shrug, trying to make it seem casual, when asked about his mother. "Prolly not." He replied nonchalantly though there was no mistaking the heaviness in his tone and mannerisms.

The boy's uncertain step backward drew out a predator's instinct in the giant, who looked up, lifting a broad paw as if to follow, perhaps chase. But in another exertion of control, the behemoth stays in place, watching his child almost overcome with tears whilst Ransom looked on with an unusual and unreadable expression.
"There is no shame in emotion." Blackened lips peeled back, this time to converse with the younger version of himself. Ears pricked forward as he caught the stirrings of a growl that never quite made an entrance. The ghoul's mouth curved into a smile. "A hard man doesn't pretend not to have feelings, he just doesn't care what the unimportant have to say about it." And if they made you feel small, well, you attacked them. Ransom shrugged his muscular shoulders, feeling the last part spoke for itself.

The obsidian lion rarely attempted to disguise his thoughts or feelings. Many in the land thought of him simply as Alizabeth's dog. But the white lioness was the single greatest obsession of his life and this made Ransom a troubling combination of volatile and dangerous.

"She'll be missing you." He said, as @Orson appeared to confirm that Alizabeth did not know he was out in the fields. "Why are you here? It's far out from the Summit."

I got this feeling, yeah, you know

Where I'm losing all control

code by corvus

His father's words washed over him, taking him somewhat by surprise. He hadn't ever been given such sage advice from Ransom, who had typically displayed a far more reserved and avoidant parenting style. Orson had always idolized him nevertheless, and his advice sunk in deep. Orson looked up, his eyes gleaming with the tears he had tried to restrain, feeling emboldened. Ransom was a hard man, and Orson wanted to be one too, just like his dad. He wanted to make him proud.

But gods! He was so confused right now!

Losing their home had been a tough pill to swallow. The turmoil in his family and the feelings of abandonment had led Orson to the rash decision to strike out on his own. Had he made a mistake? He'd certainly learned a lot being out here in the plains. He'd made friends, slept beneath the stars, struck up an interest in hunting...

The claim that Alizabeth would be missing him stung. Orson's ears folded back and he simply shrugged. He wasn't exactly sure that was true. His mother had hardly even acknowledged him the day the smelly strangers had stolen their pride, even after she'd been gone for almost an entire moon. Why should she start missing him now. "I-" Orson hesitated, unsure what to say. But lying was not in his nature, and he tended to wear his heart on his sleeve. He was much like in father in that way. He decided that perhaps the truth would be best. "I ran away." He admitted. But how could he explain his reasoning without sounding like a petulant cub? "I just... I needed to be on my own for a while. I didn't want to go live in the mountains."

Orson sighed. "I miss the ocean. I miss our home. But... I'm a part of the Lorien Plains Pride now."