Hushed Willows i always make such expensive mistakes.

If he had ever been uncertain that the Wilds were not the sacred lands he sought, all traces of those doubts had quickly been erased from his mind once the winter storm grew in fury. It had started as light snowfall, which Oqdis relished as he strode through a tranquil forest, wondering if Holden had gotten ahold of any jimsonweed plants around this area. Yet when the snow began to fall through the foliage and blanket the ground, he realised this was the beginnings of something greater. It only steadily got worse until finally, the man found himself being buffeted by winds, the cold nipping at his skin as he danced through the deep snow banks.

Oqdis, unlike the young boy, readily welcomed being tossed around by the blizzard, letting out cries of joy as his God sought to test his mettle. He would not perish here, not yet. His God was one borne of mountains and fire; this was only a hint of what was to come. He thought of his flock, but knew if any were claimed by the biting winds then that was the way their God intended them to go. What an honour!

Up ahead, he spotted a figure amongst the white landscape. He had barely been visible, but the man caught a glimpse as he slipped into a dark, rocky cave. Oqdis began to stride forward with swaying, playful steps — a deranged, crooked smile on full display. "Child!" he cried to him, scenting wolf. He stood at the entrance of the cave, wind biting and pulling at his grizzled fur, urging him back into the wild snow. His voice was nearly lost to the raging weather but he threw it forward into the cave, summoning the young stranger. "Do not cower in fear!"