Duskfire Glacier trees will make a forest, trees will make a bow

Duskfire Glacier. Rye wondered who came up with 

such unique names, who looked at the land and

thought of a fire at dusk on a glacier. It was

one big oxymoron, a cool one nevertheless but 

still very confusing. However who was he to 

question such a unique name while his was as

dry as the plant he was named after. Rye

silently swore to give his pups a better name

than his, at the very least not name them 

after a plain plant.

.

'Where are you headed?'

.

A question Rye had yet to answer himself. He did

not know what he was doing or where he was going. 

After leaving Vein he did not expect to go as far

as he did but what was he holding onto? His heart 

desired something he'd yet to obtain, he was

lost in the maze of misdirection. Each dead end

left him dejected, dreading the next dead end he 

would inevitably come across. It was an endless cycle

of regret, fear and pessimism. Rye did not know how 

to get out of his personal torture, each puzzle piece

found was not its' place. With an endless supply of pieces 

was there truly any way to find what he needed? 

"I do not know," He trailed, "I have been traveling for

days — No, I don't know how long its' been.  All I know is I have no

 direction, I have nothing essentially." His eyes averted from Iana, 

melancholy grasping the reins with an iron grip.