Fairspell Meadow you were caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom

He stole in a different direction this time, passing home but never drawing near enough to be scented or seen.

Merrit had been here once, when he had been much younger. Sometime during the night. His thoughts then had been given for someone then. Whether for Stark, or for Keen, or for someone else entirely, he couldn't remember anymore, but the meadow filled him with longing and aching and anger.

There was something new to the air today. He lowered his head and inhaled the new scent. Someone had made their home here, and he lifted his crown and peered into the dimming dusk. She had passed by recently. The scent was too fresh to have been laid at any other time.

Merrit stuck along the outer perimeter of the claim, and trailed after the path of her scent. His steps once again felt purposeless, beyond the curiosity that drove him forward. When he thought he saw a shape on the horizon, he chanced the air with a low note, and refused to slow in his path to meet her.

Screw being careful for once.