The days were becoming shorter, Týrr noticed. That was what came with Autumn, however, in accordance to the days being cooler; the nights colder still. Soon, the leaves of the forests around them would turn, creating a myriad of brilliant colors — oranges, golds, browns, reds, purples. Fall was his favorite season, smelling of spices associated with the dying leaves as the trees around them would go into hibernation for the winter months. There were certain things that could only be found in autumn, as well. The marriage of colors and cool days was something that Týrr looked forward to with great anticipation. It had it's downfalls too, like with the migrations of herds as they moved south in search of warmer weather and food. When he was not patrolling the borders of Duskfire Glacier he was helping to fill the cache, hunting what he could in the hopes that the Glacier would have enough food to get them through the sparse winter months. There was a small part of Týrr that felt bad for taking a trip to the Kintla Flatlands, especially since he had no real reason to be so far south.
It wasn't as if he intended to stay. His journey would only take about a week or so and the Nýeldur had been sure to let Njal and Tuwawi know that he was going on a little trip. He was looking to earn his trade of Chronicler, and it benefited the pack as a whole, as well as himself, to strive to focus on the trade he wanted for his primary one. He was so close to earning it that he could practically taste it. He would take what he could glean from the wolves of packs and pass along what little history there was of Duskfire Glacier. The earthen colored Rekkr slowed his steps as he neared Forest, crystalline colored eyes taking in the thick canopy and tangled limbs of the wood. He shrugged it way past the tangled limbs with a bit of an effort before he continued forth unafraid to explore where he'd never gone before.
a crime so old as the sky and bone