Haunted Wood derivative

 

The dark cloaked man continues in solitude as he forges his way south, though as the land becomes more ripe he remarks to himself that perhaps he will double back and travel northeast before too long — though the land here was colourful with more vegetation it lacked the prey he wished it would have and as a lone traveler he did not want to succumb to an eventual and gruesome death by starvation.

Varick comes across the strong marked borders of a pack and veers sharply away, straying far enough that he hoped he would not run across any of its patrol and pushes forward to eventually reach a forest of sizeable proportion.  His glacial gaze surveys the elderly, gnarled oak sentinels and the mist that surrouns them and remarks mentally that perhaps he could have lived here had there not been a pack so close.

A rustling pulls him from his thoughts and his nostrils flex as he breathes in the air; a scent is all he can discern but he knows he is no longer alone.  He lets out a deep, throaty chuff to let the stranger know he's there and waits.  Perhaps they will pass him by.