Meadowlark Prairie to hold a flame to a gas filled lake

for @Damien ;)

How unfortunate it was that the girl had been spared. He wonders how she would feel knowing she that her death - or lack of - would have saved another from his bloody crusade. It did not bother him, the tides of fate would return a victim to him in the place of the wench who had remarkably escaped his wrath. The events of the day sent his mind adrift, his focus bouncing around from introspective idea to the next like he was shot out into open space with no gravity to hold him down. Fantasions of reclaiming the dark woods and executing those who betrayed him hit him out of nowhere and all too harrowingly; indulging too much, too soon. He would not allow himself to entertain ideas that had once become his downfall, ideas that he knew were the delirious side effects of bloodlust rather than concrete goals. 

But his self-assurance that Blackfeather Woods meant less than dirt to him did not help his curiosity. No sooner did he find himself lingering only a few yards out from its borders, standing without expression as he stared silently at the ruins of his former glory. He felt many things at once, but yet, felt nothing at all. The shadowed structure in the distance meant nothing to him, yet everything at once. It was his legacy, but it was his death. The sentiment churned something dark within him, and following a small voice of caution within his mind, he turned the other way and began to slowly retreat from the wood's sight. It was then the scent hit of the man hit him, rendering him frozen dead in his footsteps, utterly haunted by the memories that flooded back in its wake.