Jade Fern Grove white lines, pretty baby

Darkness has settled over the Wilds as Wardruna slips from Easthollow’s borders. He told @Noma that he was going for a walk in a neighboring territory, restless in his sleep and inspired by a nag that he cannot place to slip out for a few hours. His statement is laced with a subtle invitation for her to join him if she wishes but he does not force her either way. He goes whether she tags along or not, and in fact ventures further than just a neighboring territory. Still, he is close to Easthollow: choosing not to venture out of the Flatlands region. He rarely has, truth be told. His sense of direction was not lost with the sight of his left eye and he does not worry he will not find his way: he simply has no desire to venture too far from his thrall, especially if she chooses to stay behind in the warmth and safety of the pack that has taken them in.

He moves towards the sound of running water, lured by the promise of a drink. His thirst has grown as he ventures through the Downs but for the lack of wanting to drink from a snowmelt puddle filled with mud ( and the gods knew what else ) he ventures forward knowing that sooner or later he will have to find a water source. The bits of the Wilds he’s explored thus far have proven that there are plenty of water sources and that running out does not seem like a legitimate concern. Black, leathery nostrils flare as he comes across the river that cuts through the grove, scenting a female nearby. He bows his head to sate his thirst, his singular jack-o-lantern gaze peeking up to take in her across the river from him. He doubts that his presence has gone unnoticed but for once the northerner deigns not to be the first to break the silence.