Deepwood Weald I go my own way

He had not ventured to the mountain yet. The deal with Hydra remained fresh in his mind, and he knew he was not welcome there until he had proven himself to her - protected her, as he had sworn to do. When his trail led inevitably to the shelter of a forest (which by happenstance had been marked by many scents) he backtracked and followed the shadow of the mountain instead, leading him to the weald. Beyond that was the sea - he could smell it - but Revui wasn't interested in going further.

The forest was dense. It was made more difficult to traverse with all the snow - although it was not snowing presently, the pressure of the clouds above foretold an oncoming flurry. Revui knew by now that the season's tempestuous conditions were a danger to all that lived, including wolves. He was unafraid, as always.

There came a shriek deep among the trees, further than he had ventured, and while it did not sound like another wolf nor anything to be wary of, he was slow to advance all the same. Cautious. The scent of blood filtered through the trees and gave the winterscape some spice; it also urged him to move quickly to close the distance, and when he did, Revui was struck by the sight of something dark (lined with red) looming over a squirming body.

Self-preservation was key: he held himself back, lurking in the dark of the trees clustered nearby.