Horizon Ridge i: the other half.

rain and more rain.

it was raining when he left sawtooth spire and it did not let up as he treks his way to the coast. why he doesn't know. he's never actually liked the coast. still, it was where the idea of him and his siblings were born. the reminiscing feels both strange and familiar. the past was the past ...but there was parts of wintersbane that clung to the past like a tattered strip of silk; tied 'round his paw.

a pawprint catches his eyes, makes the hair along his nape stand on end; bristling. uneasy. though his run-ins with bears have been few and far between, he knows their broad steps anywhere. they appear fresh too, the musk still lingering upon the air. wintersbane is cautious now, gaze alert and sweeping as he pushes forward, following the trail.