Redhawk Caldera I'd rather make it mine.

He felt the first few raindrops as he crossed from the dark forest to the meadow, but didn't feel compelled to stop. When the boy neared the area of the field where he'd run in to Kalganov only days prior, he paused and looked around. The sky was dominated by streaks of silver and dull slate, and the clouds were growing thick over Blackfeather Woods and the mountains; looking forwards now, he saw the silhouettes of far-off mountains vanishing in to the muddy horizon.

They weren't familiar, but Mou wasn't going to be distracted this time. He felt confident in himself for a change, and decided to venture a little further in an effort to test his limbs and push his personal limits. He spent the better part of the afternoon hiking through the rain as the terrain around him undulated, eventually orienting his path along some foothills and narrow culverts as the meadow became a hill, some piles of exposed shale, and then it topped off with a sloping path.

Mou followed the path, not realizing his paws were falling on some well worn routes he had frequented a lifetime ago. He stopped once he reached the top of the plateau for a moment, and listened as the sky opened up with the forecasted storm. The rain was brisk but it paled in comparison to the heat radiating from his worn-out body; he felt alive, and from his vantage point he could almost make out the black smudge of his home on the horizon.