Herbalists' Cache The city outside my ear

Late afternoon was approaching and the sun still hadn't shown its face that day. Lambert looked for it, glancing up every now and again to see if the cloying fall clouds had thinned at all, but he was always disappointed. The loner found solace in the fact it wasn't raining, but it wasn't the kind of weather that bothered him— rather, he was worried about what the season implied for his status as a bachelor. This time of year was one best spent with a pack, and soon enough the dwindling prey and building snowfall would dictate that he stay with others or risk starving. There was still plenty time before it got quite that desperate, but Lambert was a forward thinker, and even improbable consequences were often enough to cow him into action.

Anxiety drove him into the thinning silhouettes and crinkling pinebeds of the Cache. He trotted through the balding trees with his head level, ears back, and his tail limp. He appeared to be participating unhappily in some sort of race-walk, never stopping to smell the withering flowers or otherwise take in the menagerie of flora and fauna surrounding him. He moved as if he had a destination in mind, and it was just a straight line to get there; he wouldn't notice anyone if he could help it.