Hushed Willows oh lazarus, how did your debts get paid?

His ranging had proven unsuccessful on a grand scale. Driven by hunger and a desire to provide, it had been a black hole that ate up his time and wound it out further and further. When familiar territory had come to him—at least, territory he could recognize—it had ushered him north through the remains of what had once been a lush and layered land. The starkness had once unnerved him but now it was increasingly commonplace; the extensiveness in which is reached was larger than he had ever imagined, however.

Mordecai had lazily traced the mountains that would lead him to his family, one that he hoped had been fairing better than himself. Any trace of softness left from winter had worn away to sinew and sharpness, casting him in angles he hadn't seen since his initial arrival in the Wilds a lifetime ago. Perhaps not a true lifetime, but a lengthy one all the same, and it felt as though they had scavenged and survived through the famine just as long.

He found a lingering but unseen tendril of familiarity clinging to the dust and grit of the earth and it pushed him forward. They were near now, perhaps safely tucked away in the rocky outcroppings, perhaps with Warbone and his kin. This was an answer he would not entirely find however, as he was quite stonewalled by the presence of rising borders only a mile or two further in. But he had enough to make an educated guess all the same, and called for @Harlyn.

the brothers bright — blood on my name