Blackfeather Woods But are not the dreams of poets and the tales of travellers notoriously false?

Under dusk's waning light, an exhausted Ramsay continued to march along the treeline. His legs and paws were sore and his bladder was even moreso, but the dwarf was nothing if not driven. Once he started a task he needed to see it to its end. But he was quickly running out of steam, and Blackfeather Woods' border was only half established.

There was always tomorrow to finish the other parts, but with Flicker's ridiculous threat in mind, he would feel better the sooner it was done. It wouldn't provide his sister any tangible protection from whatever scheme her so-called protector had, but it strengthened her position, which could only benefit Maegi. He swept away from the borders on quick paws, stooped at Otter Creek to drink deeply with his muzzle dunked under, then returned to the borders and continued on his way.

As a mercenary, no matter how tired he got, reinforcing their territory was his job. He wouldn't rest until it was done.