Neverwinter Forest At the edge of the woods

There were fireflies behind him, so many of them. Despite the destruction left by the locusts, they still remained, beaming brightly in the dark. Now that dawn had broken, he was certain they had returned to just being ordinary flying creatures, waiting for sunset to resume their ethereal bioluminescence.

It was extraordinary moments like those that made Faolán feel better about his recent life choices. Sure, he had left everything he had ever known behind. But as the fourth of four sons, what choice did he have? His brother had assumed leadership after their father's death and given second-in-command to their sister--their sister! Not that Faolán had anything against women. But Sorcha had never shown herself to be a leader; indeed, she tended to crumble under pressure. Aodh had made few stupid decisions in his life, but that one. . .

"Shut up, Faolán," he told himself crossly, shaking his head. It did no good to dwell in the past. Lorcán had moved on to start a new family, and now Faolán was out to do the same. His only brother had gone north; he had gone south. Turns out, Lorcán had made the wiser choice. Cranky bastard's probably up there enjoying the herds, while I'm down here surviving off scraps. How could he have known about this famine?! What a mess.

The sun rose above the horizon, coating the valley in a beautiful golden-and-amber glow, and Faolán blinked sleepily; he had traveled through the night. Now he saw he was approaching a lush forest, green even through these trying times. As he reached the edge of the forest, he smelled wolves. Wolves.

He had encountered a few lone wolves south who had told him about a pack that resided in a piney forest. This must be them. Their scent markings were strong at the forest's edge, warning any trespassers away. The smell seemed to scream, I dare you to cross. Strong wolves they must be.

Faolán let out a long howl and then sat, awaiting his reception here.