Blackfeather Woods step or stone, breath or bone

@Cicero B)

His chosen path home was a far more pleasant one.  Though the way was far longer, it allowed him to see the sights and protected him from the biting winds of the sea.  The weather improved, no longer bearing down on him, though he would have appreciated the change prior to his arrival at his destination.  But alas, it was only as he turned his sights towards home that he was granted fairer weather to ease his way.

The journey took him far to the south, passing beneath the shadows of a sharp mountain range.  Its jagged teeth cut into the grey skies.  Nonsensically, Aesop feared that the rough tips will cut into the sheet of clouds, ripping them open and dumping yet more rain upon him.

Aesop came upon a vaguely familiar scent border at the edge of a forest.  He wrinkled his nose at the smell and the memory of the intruder and his docked tail.  The pink lines of his healing wounds ached sympathetically, remembering the fight.  Aesop doubled his speed, hoping to pass through the neutral lands before the border unnoticed.