Boartusk Heights Some might say "euphoric", no, there's really no words for it

He had made it through the mountains, by some stroke of luck, and had cross the sweeping flatlands only to be met with...
... more mountains.

Like a guy couldn't get a break around here. Oh well. At least these ones proved less out to kill him than those other ones had. That had been a mistake - and every time he neared a rise, his breath hitched as he prepared for the angst of finding some obscure and inconvenient pack snuggled up quaint in some valley or vale - politely in the way of his travel. But the worry began to ease, and turn entirely, the more times he was met with only a continual sea of stone.

He really found nothing much here other than the occasional trail of boars. He didn't have the manpower to hunt, so he ignored them (despite his watering mouth) and soldiered on with a growing edge to see what lay in the unseeable beyond. It was a feeling he didn't feel very often anymore - a jittering in his step and the crooked turn of mouth. The sun shone bright above him, but the air blew cool against his warming back. Yeah. The day was good, and he felt it.