Deepwood Weald we sip the wind through lips alive

Beyond the section he had quartered off, the weald was truly wild and not to be managed. But management was not quite the task he had in mind at all, but rather mapping it from stem to stern, and that was a process half as much natural as it was necessary. Parts of the sprawling forest were familiar to him but as he progressed away from the nestled core to more fringe expansions, he may as well have slipped off to another world altogether.

Even now in the midst of day, a haze lingered deep in the wood. He navigated it with ease that belied how directionless his path was, though he never quite lost the sense of cardinal directions. Wasn't hard for him to find a path forged through the ferns where deer trafficked themselves on and by and follow it out; he had done this time after time now.

Yet it was the passing trail left to linger by another which piqued his interest, the faintest tinge of sea salt left in her wake that guided him off his path to seek her out. The path she made was muddied and difficult to follow, left to cut through dense groups of ferns and prickly shrubs alike. It was here he pressed on towards the denser pockets of forestry, where the sunlight at times became blotted and forced back by heavy boughs only to relinquish light where possible.

It was one such sunbeam that the pallor of her coat stood out brilliantly against verdant leaves and needles. Like some others he had accosted in the deep wood, she seemed to have let it get the better of her and that itself was a mystery to him. For all he was, Dirge did not think himself a cut above navigating unfamiliar terrain, yet the weald seemed to speak differently; he moved in quietly, angling to approach from at least one direction she could be liable to spot him from.

"Having a spot of trouble?" he inquired, though that much was evident.

hope you don't mind dirge invading as well, though i can rescind my post if asked. ♡