Moonspear Heal me, I'm heartsick.

It was snowing again.

As the light flakes numbered numerous and steady, the winds dipped down to bite at his nose. It had become bitterly cold in the interior region; Dirge for once, felt chilly as he prowled along lower recesses of the risig crag. It would have been easy to find somewhere warmer and hole up for the evening, the forest sprawled out like a treasure trove of hidey-holes before him. Behind him there were no doubt numerous options for lodging as well, with caverns and crevasses appropriately sized. But this seemed more a proper use of his time, letting the wind toussle his fur and numb his damp nose.

Shaking the snow from his coat, he progressed down along the slope and familar trail—the woods would suit him tonight. Given the recent shake up, he had been content to remain solo on these ventures. The borders were rarely unattended as well and he suspected if he found anyone at all, it would be closer to that vicinity. Besides, finding company potentially holed up in a temporary cave seemed invasive; the deck was stacked against him of faces he did not know.