Lost Creek Hollow The Warmth That Thaws a Soul

quick post before i head out to work! >_>

When a howl rose up from the depths of the thinning wood, Mordecai had not realized how far he had gone through the territory. His shoulder ached considerably less and somewhere in the winding wood he had long abandoned thought to where he was heading in favor to ponder over any one of many things that he came across. Still, he took the opportunity to return to those borders without thought to the ordeal he had been through, perhaps eager enough to assert his presence after a lengthy departure.

As he happened upon the scene, he spied out Ancalagon easily against the snowy backdrop. Less obvious was the small wolf he had found, though Mordecai found that labeling the canine as wolf may have been a little off. There were finer nuances in the snowy figure that suggested something else, perhaps a muddied heritage that he could not quite place a decision on. But his solitary gaze did not linger on the figure long, instead it was drawn to the yearling curiously. He had intercepted someone, staying true to his talk of wanting to guard their borders.

"What's this?" he asked, though he knew why he was there.