Shadewood chaos lives in everything

The hellhound had gone far. Farther then he had ever hoped for yet farther then he had realized, as he allowed the shadows of the night to guide him, as he galloped after the swollen moon. His anxieties melted as he moved alone throughout the night, with his only intention to make use of himself during these hours whilst he could. 

Hemlocke would hunt for herbs, far and wide with a hope to capture something before it withered away. Winter would take away the plants, berries and seeds, leaving only barks, roots a d cobwebs left. His members were mostly warriors and he knew during the colder months some would have to suffer without quick treatments. 

The forest and thick, dark and large. It reminded him how large the Bracken Woods were which he once lived. However it was not so thorny and it was far more lush with far more beautiful trees. And... and he could smell the salt of an ocean on the breeze. There was an ocean here? He had not seen one since he had left Torbine-or the outskirts of it at least. If he could, he thought he would live here one day. 

He pauses, a scent mingled with the salts. It is not that of any herbs he knows but that instead of old dried blood. He follows, curious as ever as stilt-like legs carry him silently through the forest. Though he sees the other wolf firstly, cloaked in silvers and snows, his focus lies majorly to the small alter of bloodied sticks, feather and claw. It looked to be an alter and so, he tilts his head, a silent question as ruby eyes follow back up to the pale wolf. He keeps his distance, he is quiet and waits to see if she would explain.