The Bracken Woods seeing him hiding in plain sight

the forest that kandros moves through, not quite exploring and not quite hurrying through, is a tangle of conifers and deciduous trees. the forests' namesake ( though kandros is ignorant of what the locals call this particular territory ) litters the floor of the forest, crunching and at times rustling under foot. avoiding the thorny brambles is only a hair easier — the spectre manages to avoid stepping on them but a few defiant thorns slice against his hocks leaving small and shallow cuts in their wake. he notices it in the way that any creature finely attuned to their own body does but he does not give it much of his attention. he is foreign lands and though he errs towards the west of the territory, steering as clear as he can from the pack scent that wafts from the eastern side of the territory; clearly he has bigger things to worry about.

navigational skills kick in, using the position of the moon and stars seen just barely through the thick canopy of the unwelcoming forest to ensure he's heading in a direction as opposed to helpless circles. it's a far cry from ideal, admittedly. he lets out a small snort — a brief expel of air through black, leathery nostrils. even through the thick shadows that've swallowed the forest in the waning hours of day, kandros thinks he draws close to the tree-line as the forest around him begins to thin and fan out.