Lost Creek Hollow wish i could prove i love you.

It would have seemed that the warmth of the late autumn had suddenly left them, he decided. It had come about in the way that the frost had etched itself into the very wood of the morning, lingering in spite of the sunlight well into the afternoon. Of course it could have just as easily still been morning, as that far into the year he found that his concept of time was all the more skewed. The change of the season, though slow and yet gradual at best, confused him for the first time in a long time. The absence of light felt as though it came from nowhere. However this was hardly the case, but the thought still lingered as he wound his way through a thick copse along a thinning portion of their woodland.

He breathed out heavy and quiet, eyes searching momentarily for a plume of breath that did not aware. It was cool, but not quite that cold. Yet it would come all the same as it had every year of his life. And for their sake he hoped for another mild winter to set in and pass them by swiftly. But whatever the interior reaches of the valley had in store for them was anyone's guess and Mordecai had no good ones to make. He had put his stock into luck and skill, hoping that whatever choice set of gambles they would make would carry them through. The burden was doubly so when it came to managing a pack, and already he felt the nag of his previous stint coming to mind. They had already had their deserters and those depart of good intent; the former enticed irritation in him and the latter left him with mixed emotions he ignored and left to rot.

Pausing as he leaned into the rough bark of a heavy and nondescript tree, he rubbed his shoulder to satisfy an itch. But the action for as absent as it was served a greater purpose — he scanned the trail ahead, attentive to the shift in the wind and the heady scents it drew with it. For now, the area seemed void of any other. He remained indecisive as to whether or not he would seek out different company, just as he remained indecisive in what he would do. His indecision was not saddled out of lack of things to do; there were plenty of things to do.