Deepwood Weald as if through water from the bottom of a pool

The foul voices of the wolves flit among the shadows, and the further Zugzwang went the more attuned he became to their presence. He thought he could hear their hearts beating in the dark, fluttering like the wings of a flock of birds; it invigorated him, tempted him, but he knew to steer clear. The scent of them was strong but mixed too, and he had to presume it was not just a single wolf but many that the forest harbored. He prowled along, choosing his path as carefully as he could.