The Sentinels hollow coves

It was almost difficult to imagine what the forest had looked like before the fire. He had never seen it in what had been its prime. The warhound had only known the wild wood through the stories that his mother had shared with him. It seemed almost a fantasy compared to what the wood actually looked like after the fire. The titan was sure that Deirdre had not lied to him, but that she had exaggerated the beauty of the place in all of her recounting. Of course, he would never know what his mother's home was like before he had arrived there. He could only imagine, and his mind was not entirely capable of including all of the magic that had existed in his mother's stories.

No matter his inability, the skeletal titan still found a peculiar attachment to the idea. He wandered the ashen wood with hope that he might actually find a way to see what she had. Every time, he was faced with the harsh reality that the world had taken away something that had once inspired those who lived in it and around it. All that was left was the aftermath of a natural disaster. It would likely remain that way for a very long time.

The scent of a stranger met him, and the warhound drew his crown upward to gaze through the fluttering flakes of ash. There, in the midst of it, was a beast he had never encountered before. They stood at a distance for a moment before the other man demonstrated a soft wave of his tail. Ford returned the gesture and offered a ghostly smile in turn. “I don't typically see wanderers come through this way,” the titan remarked in a smoky baritone. He looked to the stranger with a curious expression on his face. The mismatched tones of his eyes remained hollow and lacking of any emotion.