Redhawk Caldera watch me make 'em bow

There's something terribly wrong here — something Liir is far too inexperienced to pinpoint just yet. He notices things, of course; the piercing silence for miles that somehow seems louder than anything he's ever heard, the swirling dark phantom looming overhead, the way the land seems to have withered to bareness without the blanket of winter to sheath it. If he didn't know any better, he might think he'd stumbled into another world entirely.
But he does know better — or at least, that's what he tells himself. He pauses abruptly with his nose still near the ground, picking up a scent he hasn't encountered in far too long for comfort. A wolf. His heart jumps a little, and he chastises himself, determined not to allow his loneliness to turn him into a fool. He forces himself to follow the trail casually, to ignore the sudden swelling in his chest at the prospect of company. Though he would not admit it to himself or anyone else, the fiery girl he spots in the distance is one of the most welcome sights of his life, and would have been just as welcome had she been a grizzled, sickly thing or worse. He chuffs, hesitating suddenly when he realizes how close he is now, and how little he has thought this through. Not that that's anything new.