He hadn't come back out to the prairie since he had found her there.
It too was a different landscape in the winter, though still evidently marred by all that had befallen it. The great tree that had listed to one side had come crashing down at some point and beyond it, there was nothing more of a landmarker here that Dirge would have put faith into.
Yet he had hoped in the fog that hung in the lowlands that he would find a trace of something, anything. The sound of hoofbeats in the distance, a bellow from a great elk, even a familiar figure snaking their way would have been a welcome sight. He could track paths all he wanted, but knew he could only go so far.
And then there was the matter of hunger, too.
The candle burned at both ends; he was tiring of the same standard fare of what they could capture along the mountain just as much as he tired of being spurned in his advances. Hydra's words still rattled in his mind and he thought that maybe she was right to have them. Even he could not deny the familiar pull of desire or the sense of lust that came with it, but he at least the sense to harass her long before another.
The wind kicked up snow as he crested a small rise and there he stopped—searching. This was where he had seen Nyx last, but he did not spy her now. He saw nothing more than the vastness of blinding white, a proverbial sea of frost and stark reality.
It too was a different landscape in the winter, though still evidently marred by all that had befallen it. The great tree that had listed to one side had come crashing down at some point and beyond it, there was nothing more of a landmarker here that Dirge would have put faith into.
Yet he had hoped in the fog that hung in the lowlands that he would find a trace of something, anything. The sound of hoofbeats in the distance, a bellow from a great elk, even a familiar figure snaking their way would have been a welcome sight. He could track paths all he wanted, but knew he could only go so far.
And then there was the matter of hunger, too.
The candle burned at both ends; he was tiring of the same standard fare of what they could capture along the mountain just as much as he tired of being spurned in his advances. Hydra's words still rattled in his mind and he thought that maybe she was right to have them. Even he could not deny the familiar pull of desire or the sense of lust that came with it, but he at least the sense to harass her long before another.
The wind kicked up snow as he crested a small rise and there he stopped—searching. This was where he had seen Nyx last, but he did not spy her now. He saw nothing more than the vastness of blinding white, a proverbial sea of frost and stark reality.
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