Barrow Fields Filter out the noise, focus on my voice and fall in

The familiarity of this place strikes him in a strange way, but the feeling is familiar by now. It's been that way for some time now, though he can't pinpoint when the change had started. At some point, the scenery had just started to nag at him — something about the placement of things, the way the sun cast over a rock or the position of a tree at the base of a mountain. He feels like he's been here before — and he has for miles, through terrain changes and the shifting of the season. It's disconcerting for the orphaned prince, the boy who lost his entire kingdom not so long ago. He gets so distracted by it that sometimes, things slip right by him —
Like now. The darkness registers suddenly, and then the presence of another — how long had he been standing there, lost in thought? He shakes his head slightly, chastising himself. And then, directed into the darkness — Hello? Who are you? He's certain someone is there — but he's not certain they're friendly. He's always been taught that respectable wolves don't skulk around in the dark; but after a moment, he realizes he could be accused of such himself, and relaxes slightly. Perhaps the stranger is in the same boat as him.