Heron Lake Plateau Hoping for real betterness

As the day dredged on, the gloom seemed to be creeping in.  Rain was on the horizon, but it probably wouldn't hit until well after dark.  Right now, it wasn't an issue -- it was still hours away.  After stopping by the lake, Quixote had milled around the lake, then ambled through he middle of the territory for a while.  Okay, he delayed enough.

Before he knew it, he'd reached the borders.  It was probably time for him to bite the bullet and actually make the trek along the southern edge at the base of the plateau.  Hopefully it'd be uneventful.  To a certain point he wasn't sure if he wanted to run into any more potential joiners -- there were just too many things he hadn't sorted out that he felt he needed to.  Like how to balance wanting to protect his family with giving people a chance.  How to not be a hypocrite.

As he turned down slope at last, he only had to go a few yards before his own scent faded to be old, like he'd stopped to exist.  Obviously that wasn't the case, but this chunk had been really low on his list since Raven was hurt.  Stuff had changed a little since he'd been by last, but not horrifically so, which at least was refreshing -- the world moved without him, but he hadn't missed much.  Quixote headed to one of the young trees that made for an obvious marker point, to investigate for others' scents before leaving his own.