ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀɴᴅ ᴏғ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇs

jericho had been this side of the wasteland a few times before. each time, it made him turn his collar up to the wind and hover closer to his companion. 

his breathing is heavy but steady. when he exhales it hovers around his face like a small cloud. baloo is huffing and puffing, nose sticking up into the stale air every few steps to keep out for the two of them, and jericho can’t help but wring his hands together, rifle slung over his shoulder for easy reach.the large yao guai lumbers along barely a few inches before him, paws falling hard against the dried out ground of the northern commonwealth. 

the two were out and about, not too far from where they’d set up camp {an abandoned house - though the holes in the structure did terribly for keeping warm at night}, for food or anything else, but mostly something to do.

though, on the outskirts of a nearby settlement was the last place anyone should ever wander, especially with the threat of straggling raiders, self-made mercenaries, and temperamental drifters that loved to make shelter in the woods off of main roads.

the large beast stops, head turned up to the sky, having caught wind of something further past the treeline ahead of them. before jericho can reach a hand out to pat her on one of her large shoulders, she lets out a rough wheeze and practically leaps into a sprint. she only reacted in a certain way for hounds {his assumption is correct, soon after, he hears them}, and unsurprisingly enough there had been plenty that the pair come across in just one area.