Deepwood Weald let the dead bury the dead and they'll come out in droves

With the mountain having started to feel familiar underfoot, he’d grown more comfortable with the idea of venturing beyond the territory. Plenty of the surrounding area had never been seen by him before, and he was curious to learn both of what the other territories housed and how he might navigate them. As soon as his eagerness had become too overwhelming to bear, he’d told Aesop that he was heading out for the day—at this point, he probably wouldn’t go anywhere without first telling the older male—and then took off down the mountain.

Alastor had traveled along the range until there were no longer any peaks to reach out towards the sky, and then broke off into a woodland. There was something unsettling about the place, but he’d continued through it anyways. Having realized that he’d never been within that particular forest before, he was careful to keep track of where he was going, mapping out the land with each step that he took. At several points, he’d believed himself to have gotten lost, but had quickly righted himself each and every time. For so long had he been a creator of mental maps, that even the most troublesome of lands could not trip him up—well, not entirely, which was all that really counted.

In the distance, he’d noticed a pale form traveling in the same direction as himself. Ever the friendly sort, the foreigner did his best to catch up with the stranger, then loosed a chuff with the hope that he’d find a partner in her for their treks. As always, Alastor was a strong believer that traveling with a partner was better for you than traveling all alone.