Deepwood Weald they're wearing steel that's bright and true

The last turn of a moon had been spent in a weird headspace for the sterling Ostrega—he felt overly introspective, bordering on withdrawn for him, but kept terribly busy all at once. There was always something going on, from the everyday drivel to his father's injuries to whatever news his sisters trickled back for them, and everything else brewing out the flatlands and beyond. It seemed like strange times loomed on the horizon, or maybe just out of reach, and certain balances were definitely offset (his dad's rogue enemy, his misplaced little sister).. but really, his day to day? He was remarkably well.

A plentiful summer spent on the move up and down the mountains had helped fill him out in ways yet unseen, and now with winter thickening up his coat too, he was starting to look less adolescent, and instead more whole. He wasn't exactly privy to this type of insight, exactly.. but he did feel more.. wily, and quicker to rile thanks to the special chill on the winds, paired with all the reasons he had—from what he protected alongside his loved ones, to what he sought to see himself.

Riding these momentums well for tonight, he had worked his patrols to a close before the sun set, then ranged out into neutral turf after. When his path started to diverge from Moonspear's claim, he raised his voice to the winds to let them know. Namely, he wondered if @Vela was in earshot; he hadn't forgotten about their intentions to scout together, but with everything going on, it seemed less pertinent most days. Yet, when was the timing ever going to be a perfect fit? Nevertheless, he announced his plans and took off, heading on towards the looming treeline fast with confidence he could find something to entertain his nose there for the eve.