Ocean's Breath Plateau not sure where the rain ends

After his encounter with his sister, Sweet had stuck around the forest until the leaves had begun to scatter in the wind. He'd woken up on more than one occasion covered from head to toe, and it pained him to see the beautiful layers of sunshine-gold and fire-red draped across his already igneous coat; the power of the Emberwood was fading as the season transitioned. Soon the trees would be naked, their boughs transformed from wreaths of flame to grasping fingers. He did not want to linger long enough to see it, and so he departed from their company. His path coursed northward until he came upon the tell-tale scent of the sea, and that took him a number of days. He thought of going further — but after a few attempts, as he slipped through the Sound and would've ended up bee-lining for the coastal pack not far off, he found their scents and turned around. Sweet had meant what he'd said to Saucy: they were not meant to live in packs. Mother and father did not raise them in one, and Sweet was more than happy to continue being a rogue.

But by the time he'd returned to the beaches of the Sound, he was already regretting that conversation. The further west he traveled the less he saw of autumn, and the bite of winter's steady approach began to set itself in his bones. He was more than happy to stop his travels and rest within the Sentinels (although they were foreign to him, and the name would not have been present in his mind); it was a night of restlessness, of loneliness, as images of his sister living wtih another family plagued his mind. He was envious of the thought of her being so far removed from the life of their parents — free of them, of their influence, much as he'd longed to be. But the boy was too passive. He knew he had shortcomings and that was why he'd always fought with their father; now, though, he was free to make his own choices. It didn't surprise him that Saucy had come to that conclusion quicker than he did.

After trying and failing to sleep within the foregin woodland, Sweet struggled to his feet and found himself something else to do; he needed to warm up, to fill his belly, and the forest was ripe with smaller critters that were awake through the dark hours. It didn't take long for him to find and consume a few rats. That helped a little, and he finally passed out — seemingly on cue with sunrise. He woke with a start not long after that, unsure of how much time had passed but feeling worse rather than better. With some choice grumbling muttered under his breath, he got up again and removed himself from the strange forest; as he went, he realised that the trees had been scored by tragedy, and he hastened his pace before he could absorb their sorrow with his immense empathy.

Thus, he came upon the plateau. The boy emerged as a solitary ember escaping the ruination of the forest, fleeing quickly despite his sense of weakness. He felt the shadows of the trees drift overhead and then there was clear blue sky — a blinding, vast, intense shade of the most pure blue. He was momentarily unable to see anything besides the sharpness of the winter sun, and winced his eyes shut against the light. It took another moment for him to notice a dark smudge on the hillside overlooking his exit point; he couldn't quite make out who, or what, was watching him from on high.