Northstar Vale constellation

someone he hasn't met yet maybe?

In the early morning, before the bulk of the group was awake and roaming, he was slinking off to be alone again. This time though, Tryphon wasn't entirely lacking in purpose. He had spied a copse of trees before, and while it was quite a ways from the rest of the group, he felt enough confidence in himself and his ability to traverse the terrain on his own, that he didn't bother informing anyone of where he was going, or why. As the boy crept among the jutting birch trees he investigated their peeling bark and then the moist soil, crunching through the ice leftover by a frosty night. Everything shined. Everything seemed to be covered in tiny stars. But he didn't care much for the trees after all, and moved on through the wood — until he came upon a strange tree with bowed branches. It looked as if it grew up to hold something, because each branch seemed to spiral and curve from the other. The bark of this particular tree was more golden, almost like a rusted orange, and he had only glimpsed it in his wanderings — but now he had found it. And near the top, at the junction of branches within the arbutus, there was a messily patched-together nest where the hawk from days ago still slept.