Taking the paper back, his tail eagerly whipped with curiosity.
It looked more like a drawing than a language. How did this spell out his name?
None of his step-father’s books had this type of language, and that dork had everything on his library.
Nez’ began to scribble. >>
remember at least."
' ᛊᚲᛖᚨᛞᛖᚨᚢ '
Truth be told, there were hardly any of those said records left. Almost all of it hasn't survived the last few decades.
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Rubbing the back of his neck as he stood, Nez’ made one final adjustment on his ‘step-father’, securing that he was well comfortable.
He hated him but. .
Ah, nevermind.
Nez’ stepped away and wandered about the mess. Just where was his mother?
A relieved sigh.
Good—He didn’t have any money anyways. Very good to mention just in case.
Scribble Scribble.
{ Ne Zha. It’s something my father called me but everyone calls me, Nez. }
How does he work around with one arm? Does it slow him down or >>
manageable size.
If you were an inconvenience, then I wouldn't have bothered being this helpful."
A bit of a cold-hearted statement, but he wasn't afraid to speak his mind.
"Do you have a name?"
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He learned to write from his stepfather—Better yet, the male who stepped in to that role. He didn’t get along with him, mostly because he tried to replace is father.
But, still grateful that he gave him the ability to communicate other than facial expressions.
>>
blank journal that belonged to his wife and a stick of charcoal to write with. It seemed the best way for Nezha to communicate back to him.
He'll just have to apologize to the missus later for taking her things.
"Here, this should help too."
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32
He’d graciously took the food and slowly roasted the berries within his hands.
Meat? He wasn’t fond of it. Even in life or death situations, he’d still be picky with his meals. His berries always had to be roasted to a certain degree. Only thing he could eat raw were apples. >>
and a few berries.
"You should eat something. Warm or cook the meat a bit if you'd like. It is a bit cold."
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29
Weak male.
He huffed out, still holding on to him and soon throwing him over his shoulder.
The boy was strong.
Nez’ figured that their bedroom housed his mother so the only option was to drag him to the spare.
His bed.
He didn’t want to sleep anyways. >>
" Did I-I almost pass out again? N-Nez. . . . What are you doing here?
You should be. . . .a-asleep. . . . . "
The fox finally close his eyes and decides to take a short nap.
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32
Their flame was weak upon entering the home. He had used most of his strength to keep it going—Now he’d immediately patted off the cold and snow to dry off their fur.
His first place of rest, sitting near the fire as it were life and death.
Stupid boy.
>>
and off-grid as one could expect. Without electricity, it was quite dark, but the Lucario immediately ventured to the fireplace to toss some logs on and get it started.
1
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28
What?
It didn’t sound real to him but not having the time to think—Nez’ had to catch the weak fox before he were to fall to the ground.
Was he gone for that long?
All because he was being a brat about this. .
Humble as the home looked, it was better than being out in his usual way of sleeping outdoors.
He was grateful for anything.
Nez’ didn’t want to seem too eager but, he was excited to shake off the cold and sit somewhere warm and safe.
Patience.
He’d held back from lunging at his forcing them to answer. For once, he’d held back.
But, the lad was scared.
The way that he was speaking was one of mourning.
And with that, he felt tears wanting to form. His grip on his father’s staff tightened.