WIPposting
He really hadn't meant to wander so long. He'd promised Tails he wouldn't leave him to fend for himself ever, let alone with a stranger who'd only recently graduated from enemy to acquaintance...
But he notices how innately comfortable they are in each other's presence despite both of their inherent distrust of the unknown. Maybe it was an islander thing? They'd technically all hailed from tropics, albeit some brought up more isolated than others.
The echidna sort of reminds him of his little brother in a way though; he'd seen them both once owlishly blinking at the smallest display of acknowledgement, almost as if they weren't quite used to it.
Both seemed to live their lives within the whispers of the trees he normally barreled through, finding the roar of the wind that followed behind him a much more fitting announcement of his presence.
But today he walks slowly, trying to be as respectful as Knuckles' fragile heritage demands with this bundle of sticks and twigs he'd collected for the fire in his arms that were probably older than all three of them combined.
He'd been the natural candidate, of course, when the flames they rested near began to flicker and dwindle, and while it was normally his responsibility to rekindle it in any way he could for Tails' sake, the darkness this time wasn't really all that bad, with the looming glow of the Master Emerald's shrine just up the hill.
That, and he still didn't really know his way around, seeing as how the first time he'd traversed Angel Island he didn't exactly have time to sightsee.
Knuckles points him in the correct direction though, but not after a stern warning to keep to the path and to not take more than what was needed, followed by a somewhat skittish reminder to "thank the trees" for their contribution, regarding them not unlike the way Tails would a tool he was particularly fond of.
In that sense, he'd watched as Tails nodded sagely, with all the wisdom he'd been born with.
"Oh don't worry, Sonic's never wasteful! I've seen him eat so many hot dogs off the ground, I swear-!"
He hadn't stuck around long enough to witness whatever expression that conjured, though he was sure from the way his little brother laughs as he left that the eyeroll was nothing short of legendary.
The echidna's faith in him remains a bit more underwhelming.
He understood the importance of as well as the respect demanded by the natural forces that sustained him, just as much if not more than anyone else.
But his parting words, while scathing to a degree, still melted his tough, weathered exterior to reveal something more tender and unavoidably naive beneath.
It's visible on the tiny notches he passes by, etched into thick and sprawling trunks like little more than old scars from a bygone time. He finds it in the withered flowers strewn about a felled tree's resting place, each of its many rings marked to track the time like wisdom from the only elder Knuckles ever knew.
He couldn't have been more than 13, and yet...until he'd entered the picture by accident, they were what little company Knuckles kept on this island.
