Duck Lake A silence lays upon the valley

Sorin had turned back to the north after venturing into the meadow. He had no interest in travelling into the mountains to the west; with winter coming, such an action could be extremely errounus. He continued on his trek through the valley, wanting to discover as much the land and its inhabitants as he could. If this valley was to be his home for the winter, he needed to fully scout it out, discover all that he could to give himself the best chance at survival. For winter would not hesitate to punish the mistakes of the unprepared.

Eventually, the rugged male's paws carried him to the edge of a lake. He looked over the surface of the water, wondering what his reflection might look like, if he could have seen it. The water was too choppy, and the fog obscured too much moonlight, but he did wonder. Would he even recognise himself, would he see the same warrior, who fought for an honorable cause? Or had fighting for a good cause with less than admirable tactics changed him too much? It was one of many questions that haunted him since Viggo's fall. Before he had been so sure of his path, that honor only mattered in the cause, not in the fight. Now, he wondered if such a path could lead to destruction as great as-

With a low growl, Sorin shoved the train of thought to the back of his mind. He could not afford such weak, distracting thoughts right now. He had to stay focused if he was to have a chance this winter. So he continued his trek around the lake, looking for any prey that be out this late.