The Heartwood the crash and burn

“What a shithole.” The rumbled voice was deep – deeper than it had been the last time he had been through the Teekon Wilds, and the agouti wolf it belonged to certainly did not resemble the timid and frail boy that had fled from the valleys prior. The molten lava of his eyes were intense now as they scanned the devastation before him, and he felt his lip curl upward in distaste. Gone was the timid boy who fled from the mountains after killing the boy in the Marauder’s ranks (unbeknownst to him was the survival of Tambourine), unable to come to terms with what he had done – now, after the moon shad begun to pass and his youthful naiveté shed, Pippin firmly believed he had done right.
 
But he hadn’t come back here to come to terms with that. His past was behind him now, and while he crept away from the mountains, unable to wonder if his family still remained there, Pippin instead found himself in this wasted land.. scorched, much like his life. When he was ready, he would try to seek them out. But he was not ready. Not just yet.
 
Loping forward, the golden Ostrega was determined to familiarize himself with other aspects of the valley – and if he could, find his way back to Lost Creek Hollow.

Hydra struck past the Glen and into the Heartwood. Though time had passed, Hydra still traveled with her sisters; they fanned out to scan the perimeter of the woods, and Hydra entered its depths. This place had seen plenty of devastation, it appeared; if that man lurked in their Wilderness still, she could picture him skulking around here. 

But she caught no scent of him as she sniffed at the earth, and could detect nothing that betrayed his presence. A cool wind raked its fingers across her furs, but they had begun to thicken in preparation of winter. The cold was not biting here, and she was able to ignore the gale. Hydra continued on, deeper into the wood.