Wapun Meadow et peccatum meum contra me est semper

He thought he tracked a small brown bear. The afternoon may have begun on a true trail, yet as the wolf prowled through the meadow he saw... well, he wasn't sure. Not something at all comparable to the size of something ursine, but something familiar, in the way canines were familiar to one another.

A breeze brought the stranger's current health to his attention: milk-sweet, effeminate in a way that didn't fit what he looked at. Mesa decided to keep his distance.

The wind tumbled across the meadow, ruffling at the man's coat as if to push him one way or another, but he stood firmly in place, observing.