Blacktail Deer Plateau the longing of the dead

Dante knew that feeling well. Some moments he remembered like yesterday while others were more lost to him every day. "I hope you are right my friend." He shook his head. "I am not. While it is said my ancestors came from lands with winters much harsher, I actually come to these lands from more southern parts. I've passed some cold nights, it is true, but probably nothing like I am in for. I am not overly fond of winter." That was the understatement of the year.

It took him a year's travels to get here, so his previous home was far removed from him now. Even if he did not at all miss his former family, the land he at times did. Some would have called the weather unbearably hot, but he liked it fine. Thick pelt and all.

"Guess I'll actually have to find a den when that time comes," he chuckled, his current attitude more of a loner's 'sleep where you drop' outlook. Yet more carryover from a life long lived on the move. Perhaps he'd start digging himself out one in the coming days.