Cedar Sweep i was born a shot-gun in my hands

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Astik does not stray too far from Golden Glade. His routine patrol sparks his curiosity and draws him out of the borders of his parent’s pack and into the Wilds. Perhaps the shadowed rook should be tired of the Wilds: the travel to get to Golden Glade was extensive and he remembers the trial and tribulation of it. He remembers the cold. It is not so cold anymore. He had never actually gotten to explore on their journey from Larksong Grotto to Golden Glade. They had moved with a singular purpose: find a new home though for Tapat and his sake their stops had been frequent. Astik pushes his boundaries, though. He is not too far from Golden Glade but he ventures deeper than he probably should have. He skirts around the Bog, cutting into the upper part of Cedar Sweep stopping only when he reaches the river that cuts through the shadowy forest, the trees thinning the nearer to the river’s bank he got. He knows his way back and has been practicing his sparring, though, and so he does not worry as he bows his head and laps at the cool water the river has to offer to him.

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