Dawnlark Plains I used to recognize myself.

Frost gilded each strand of grass, adding an extra crunch to each of his weighted strides. He did not pay any heed to the drifting mist clinging like spider's silk to the surrounding trees; the expanse where he roamed was exposed just the way he liked it, and he had no reason to go close tot he clusters of still-standing trees.

He was unafraid.

Even though the earth had been tumultuous and full of angst in these past weeks - there was still enough green to support him, dry though it had become. He had been pushed beyond his typical range though; his sagging sides evidence enough that the Wild's current state was less than ideal, regardless of his in-born confidence. The scent of predators did not run so thickly through the air here - and so he would dwell, scouring for edibles to fill his belly, hardly keeping track of the world around him.