Phoenix Maplewood Spears shall be shaken,

Late evening.
12 — HCM roll.

He moved north as the air began to cool. Heat radiated off of the soil despite the roaming sun's gradual descent towards the horizon, and as the golden hour gave way to a greying sky, the dog found himself in another forest. It smelled better here; the colors of the trees were glorious and bright, and the forest floor held smatterings of leaf-litter that prompted some silly behaviour out of him. He chased the dust in the dying shafts of light, or plunged nose-first in to piles of leaves and came out the other side looking utterly wild with his tail beating furiously. It was like autumn — but warmer, at least until the light had completely faded and the clouds swept across the sky. Rohirrim spent a few hours romping and when he grew tired, he collapsed in a heap with his tongue lolling from his slender little face.