a crisp bite

As the sun settled below the horizon, the temperature settled below fifty for the night. Feichín wasn't much bothered by the crisp autumn bite, instead the flavor of the air surrounding him was fresh and rejuvenating. He stood, a gray and black furred presence amongst a softer mountainside, his pale slate eyes observing how the bird flocks traveled to their resting places. Did wolves follow similar patterns? Were they predictable in their routines? Did they have routines? Curiously, his mind began to wander, pondering various possibilities.

His ears listened much like radar for vibrations that would translate into sound. Tuatha Dé was fresh and new. He imagined they would have some trespassers who did not realize that land they were so free to travel just weeks prior were no longer free to travel. He imagined Muirrin would allow for safe passage to those who deserved it, but it was still important to keep alert. He was proud of his younger sister, and though there was dominance within his personality, he felt more himself when he did not force it. There was much promise for Tuatha Dé to flourish.