The Sentinels die cast memories strewn aside

For the most part, the deadwood was usually silent, void of other canines. Though silence was subjective here; the timber creaked and critters chattered all to set the ambience that was generally tuned out by him. So focused in his own quest, he did not take the time to notice that he was not alone here and thusly was disconnected from his pursuits when a voice called out to him.

The crone was not hard to miss, the varied tones of her alabaster and cream coat jarring against the weathered wood and darkening greens. His gaze alighted on her as she made her way to him, his steps slowly halting. His jaw set unevenly, for once rendered silent where he may have swift to slather a greeting in return.

He abandoned the thought of hellos for another line altogether: "Not every day I find someone else lurking around in these parts." There had been a time before, perhaps, that he had found another set to lumber about in, well, the lumber, but that had been some time ago when he hadn't been so set on trying to plant his own roots.