The mood within the Sentinels was quiet; tranquil. Amid the subdued greys and blues of night, the sight of the fallen oaks was suiting and oddly atmospheric. Among them could be seen the tawny frame of Embry, who sat in reserved silence adjacent to a feeble alder. He had spent three nights in the copse and was only just beginning to configure an explanation for the rotting scenery. 

It was not so much gloomy as mysterious to the male, who indeed had taken a liking to the intriguing nature of the forest. What had happened? If they could only speak...

He pulled his broad paws close to his body as he straightened his seated stature to examine the clearing. So far, things had been quite uneventful for the boy. He was beginning to grow a bit impatient with the linearity of his life.