The Heartwood Fear of power invisible.

He'd left the valley with Merrick's blessing as far as that would hold, and had spent a good few days perusing the mountain chain, having decided on his claim yet spent little time there; a few hours at most, pulled in one direction or another. Eventually he was pulled in a new one: down the other side, along and then across a spindly creek, and through a patch of woodland black as pitch.

It wasn't the mountains. His claim was behind him now, and he should head back to it. The lure of the familiar landscape tugged at something deep within Revui; he could not turn his back on that feeling. He had said he wanted a mountain of his own — and when the distant Moonspear came in to view surrounded by ominous dark clouds, he felt a stirring of hunger.

The wind did not feel right, did not smell right either. It was sharper. The mineral quality inherent to rain was overpowering, and there wasn't as much heat to the summer air as he might have anticipated for the season. Everything felt wrong, here. He lounged in the shade of the Heartwood for a few more hours, wanting to get closer but feeling somehow deterred by the darkness crowding the sky.