Dragoncrest Cliffs you wished to transform the flesh and ascend

west brings him into territory that while is not immediately familiar to him, bodes with it a stirring of home; it is a strange and nostalgic thing, something he feels within the marrow of his bones. so many times he has came and left, came and left. would this time be any different?, kjalarr cannot help but ask himself. he does not have an answer because despite how much distance he strives to put between himself and these wilds he is always lured back to them for some reason or another. time after time.

the scents of a pack that had once inhibited these cliffs were beginning to fade and if there were a few stragglers, the northman took no notice. he didn't care. dragoncrest cliffs was the first territory he entered upon his re-appearance into the teekon wilds and seems like a decent enough place to rest. his journey was long, felt longer still by the internal war he waged on whether it was wise to return once again. for what purpose did he have? was there even anything left for him in the wilds? a defiled grave. a bay that which was stolen from him time and time again. a dead birthright that he was no longer worthy of. no longer actually wanted.

an annoyed noise rumbles in his throat and he turns away from the cliffs, the sheer drop unsettling to him as he glimpses down with his only functioning eye. with the cliffs behind him, kjalarr heads towards the forest, seeking two things: areas where woodland prey was abundant and fresh water. once those were found he could think about finding a place to rest for a while.