Felltree Marsh Yeah I've been running against the wind

The stormcloaked male was skulking around the willows, not quite brave enough to reenter after returning to them and realizing there were actual border markings. Trespassing was a crime he did not want attached to his name or image, even though part of him was quite resentful about how quickly his home had been taken over.

But they had left it, and this was the way of things.

The marsh was not quite as pleasant a landscape as the willows. It lacked the peace and quiet and was instead filled with the sounds of crickets and frogs, and also his paw steps as he pulled them out of the sucking mud as he plodded along. It was kind if nice, actually; he had missed the liveliness of Round Valley quite a bit since leaving.

It made him wonder what the new wolves of the willows were like — soft-spoken druids? Men pretending to be women? Widowers? Flower children?

To find out, he was following the trail of one of them. A she wolf, still young but perhaps a bit older than him. In his mind, she was just like any of the young mothers of Elysium, soft and sweet and ghostlike. (Sometimes he was not sure if this last quality was real or his imagination.)

What he came upon instead was rather underwhelming.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he approached, long legs carrying him a little more easily through the muck.