Deepwood Weald ambrosial grace

And along the those borders he had been setting, the density of the forest wasn't a guarantee. Though the boughs spread long and tangled gently here, they came in patches. The reality of lurking deeper along its depths resembled rolling swells of the sea; Dirge appeared just as often as he disappeared, whether the ferns or the hardwood concealed him. He abandoned this effort shortly after, opting for a worn deer trail that followed the curve of the weald, and paused to absently check over markings left by his sibling—a not so distant noise stopped him from assessing it further.

Head on a swivel, he rose to his full height as he picked over the scenery. The she-wolf slipped from the hazy depths and he regarded her with interest, but no spark of recognition came. For a change of pace, this stationary lurking had not entirely connected the dots that others would simply happen by; the gearshift between aimless adventuring and directionless desire to hold his ground was as unfamiliar as the abstract design she wore. He was drawn to her eyes, and it was there his gaze lingered.

"Hello there," he offered, softly.

sorry for the brief delay... and the unexpected roughness of this post. i tried to smooth it out but i'm certain it's worse haha. too much travel and work this last week.