The Sentinels the things that we bury

Draven had departed from the Heartwood and headed North-West, following the subtle but unmistakable scent of salt and sea that had drifted to him on the autumn breeze. The young male had been keen to avoid wasting time traversing the mountain range or navigating his way around the quarry, and so had chosen to take the more forgiving path which snaked its way through a deep forest. He had not known, however, that Neverwinter forest was claimed territory, and by the time he had realised too much progress had been made to turn back and plan another route. 

He had cautiously snuck his way along the very fringes of the territory and luckily made it to the other side, escaping with only a bite to his ankle. Seeking the safety of tree cover once more, Draven now wandered through yet another unfamiliar woodland. This one too had been scorched by flame, much like the Heartwood, and the young male found his mind playing tricks on him as he trailed through the maze of fallen deadwood and ash. If it were not for the more pungent scent of the sea, Draven might have believed himself to have travelled full circle back to where had started.

Snapping him from his thoughts, a large stag suddenly stepped out through the trees ahead of him, causing a piece of bark to crack underhoof. Startled, the ungulate lifted its head, only to spot his shadowy figure eyeing it from a distance. The stag fled as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Draven alert and on edge.