Neverwinter Forest crooked antlers

It had been something in the back of his mind for a while now. Even before he had turned away from the fallen Glade, back when spring had finally thawed, and even before Tambourine had vanished from his side.. he couldn't help but think of the willows. He missed them, although had come to accept why they had left. Still, it was the last place his family had ever been almost-whole (Pippin was difficult to envision and even remember sometimes) and presumably, where they had known him to be last. Not that he expected them to ever find him again, not anymore, but there was some old happy nostalgia about it.. and the reedy Ostrega would never entirely discredit the idea, of course.

So day after day, he had worked away at a path easing him out of the Tuktu. He said no farewells to the family that had taken him in once, although hoped for their best wherever they had gone to--despite their paths diverging, and him feeling a little bad about leaving them without a word, not wanting to make them wonder about him. In fact, he figured it had been best that he had always stayed beneath the radar. An easy, forgettable presence, hopefully.

But he really didn't know what he was doing surrounded by such stark unfamiliarity, and the weather didn't make the travels easy some days. Even his nose struggled for a good grasp on where to guide him. Rain, wind, humidity, and otherwise heavy clouds only worsened the more he went, especially once the Hinterlands were at his back.

Day after day, he finally fell into some sort of routine with far less resistance. Forward, paws over grass and stone and dirt and creeks and mire. He rested when he found shelter, ate when he could find it, and just went. Vaguely northward seemed good. The tracker barely knew where the willows would be from here. They had traveled in poor conditions his first and only trip down this way, so scenery wasn't looking very familiar yet. He had no idea, besides to go away from where it had hurt. Didn't matter to where.

When a new downpour chased him out of a meadow he had been trying to hunt in, he galloped towards the cover of a forest he didn't know the name of. His hackles prickled warily, curious to see if he would still be alone for long. He needed to eat something decent, weight was slipping off fast if he kept up this pace. He realized how badly his heart was racing now that he had finally slowed, taken a breath, and looked around with a low, tired whine eking past his lips.