Deepwood Weald in this cocoon of velvet darkness

after his talk with moor, of seastorms and the storms that plagued the coast in the late months of summer ( known to him only because of his brief time/reign in rusalka ) that had forced them to relocate further inland sparked inspiration and a need to have a place to safely shelter not too terribly far from their bay in case something similar were to happen. wintersbane does not think it is terribly uncommon on the coast — though he does not truly know in truth. the sea is nigh unpredictable so why wouldn't her storms be?

it drives him a little south-west of the bay — into the bowels of the deepwood weald. the forest is spindly, but the intertwining of the fingerlike limbs way overhead look like they would offer plenty of shelter from the worst of weather. it's dark and likely easy to get lost within the labyrinth of trees and ferns — of olive greens and apple reds — but for shelter, wintersbane thinks it will work well.

so long as no one claimed it in the in-between — of which, he knows, there was never any guarantee. a neutral territory he would have to keep an interested eye upon now and then.