Phoenix Maplewood memories

To remain in a single area for too terribly long never sat quite right with him; perhaps it was the constant moving of his youth than instilled this behaviour into him, or perhaps there was more to the story. Whatever the case, the results were the same: Eros departed from the vale in favour of travelling, seeking new sights to behold; he assured those that may have seen him leave that he would return, once his thirst for knowledge was quenched. When that may be, he could tell not a soul, allowing his mind to wander even further than his body could reach.

Several days worth of travel passed and the masked beast found himself weaving through a forest; it was as bare as bare could be, winter having stripped the trees of their foliage. But it was still someplace new, with trees of bark just as white as the snow that coated the ground surrounding them; this he was no more curious about than usual, having seen trees of similar appearances throughout his nomadic days. What stood out to him the most of all was the scent of a wolf—fresh and feminine, a recent visitor through these parts. Having not come across any others since his journey began, Eros soon found himself trailing after the woman, following her scent with the hope that, at the end of it, another wolf would truly be waiting.