Hideaway Strath Excuse me... Have you seen my sanity? I think I lost it

MATURE!!

Due to reference to Jimsonweed
He has Jimsonweed, it grows throughout much of North and South America. It is a weedy annual plant with striking white tubular flowers and spiky seed pods. The leaves and seeds contain potent alkaloids that cause hallucinations. Used ceremonially by a number of indigenous peoples, jimsonweed acts as a deliriant and can produce intense spiritual visions.

Pinks and purples inked along the the horizon slowly setting the sky a flame with light and warmth long before the sun crested the outlying hills. As it’s rays filtered through the trees the light glittered along the snow covered earth setting the whole strath aflame, a diamond filled blanket covering all of nature’s beauty and some how leaving it that much more crisp and resplendent.

The large and overweight painted white brute stood admiring the scene before him, his gaze melancholy as he remained still, he was close to the borders of a pack; one he was going to request sanctuary in. He expected company soon enough, there was no need to howl out his presence like a lark.

He thought back on what had brought him to the outskirts of this pack;

One morning he had woken up beneath the ribcage of a large bear, at first he panicked that the two legged might have captured him at last and the flung himself at the stained bars that had encompassed him. In his rage, the bones of the bear carcass that he had eaten were spread far and wide. The white beast stood a rib bone in his maw, panting, wide eyed, unfocused.

He thought back on what had brought him to that crazed moment;

After serving the gods and tending to a wolf that would eventually owe him, The hungry shaman had come upon a bear carcass, it had perhaps perished in the storm maybe lost it’s way, though why it had not been in a den somewhere sleeping the winter away wasn’t a question he’d never ask. The gods had presented him with a gift and he partook. The white priest had painted his face in the bears blood, he carefully painted a stripe below each eye and along the top and bottom of his muzzle then he had painted lines down his sides with his nose. After that he had partook in yet another sprig of Jimsonweed and cried out to the gods.
He needed a place to grow his herbs and access to a hot springs to properly treat wolves. Where was he to find that now that the pack he had thought to join had but dispersed in the night.
Somewhere in his lament and during his days of plenty he caught the scent of a nearby pack and decided then and there at the break of dawn his life would change one way or the other.


So it was here and now that the intruder to this pleasant place was, He wore two skulls hanging at his sides tied together with vines and a C shaped stick that had been slid over his head and down his neck until it came to rest at his shoulders. They hung from him like saddle bags would from a horse or pack animal. One skull was of a moose with antlers still intact and one of a similarly large (to himself) wolf both skulls were lashed with twisted dried vines, both skulls were almost over flowing with herbs, there were some wooden tools lashed to the antlers of the moose skull among other things,


And it was here he waited seeming to all the world like he had time and patience a plenty. Life would catch up to him soon, for now he was just enjoying this moment, this sun rise, this place of serenity and beauty