Deepwood Weald i love to watch the castles burn, these golden ashes turn to dirt

And where she felt lost, Dirge felt at home. Familiarity had begun to work its way in steadily, the winding paths and sometimes lack thereof guided him swiftly. He found @Nyx absent today but did not fret over it yet; their time in the woodlands seemed to have been drawing her out of her shell little by little. She had happened on him on the last jaunt he had taken away from the weald and since then, her movements and behavior were more animated for brevity's sake.

Whatever darkness that had hung over them seemed not to hit the forest floor, but pockets of dappled sunlight broke in where trees thinned, and he knew he had left the deepest of the wood behind without needing to check. His mind was a busy place as of late, having settled firmly on lingering in the dense wood until it could serve them no more, and he already debated where to cordon off a rather crude claim in its midsts. Though ambitious about such a thing, he was not as foolish to try and take the forest whole—that was too much, too long of a distance to maintain between himself and his sister, too stressful—yet he did acquaint himself with its features, pondering how best to prioritize them as he stepped over errant foliage in his way.

That was when she stumbled into view, a fiery glimmer between ferns and stout timber, and then flickered out of view.

With an interest piqued, he narrowed down where to go and seamlessly altered his course, perhaps too curious for his own good. Ceara was not a hard wolf to follow even in the shade; Dirge found her again as he topped a long toppled log, his eyes focused on the wave of red hairs against deep green as it seemed she was uncertain, but certainly lost. He smiled to himself as he went to join her, sure to make sound as not to alarm her in that steady approach; his tail waved behind him.

"You've let the forest swallow you whole, I see."