Ghost Lion Crag tanhayee

some called this place 'ghost lion crag.' he wouldn't know it, but if he heard it, he'd understand. it was desolate, devoid of life. even the trees and shrubbery that grew along its ridges were sparse and anemic; he felt the same, wasting away with every step.

and as he reached the top, a word floated across his mind—

tanhayee. alone.

he was alone, and been so for a long time. at first, when he'd left, he'd considered it another expedition, a journey upon which to embark and after which he'd return to some semblance of home. that was how it always had been (the ones in his life had always been too forgiving of his wanderlust).

now, as he stared over the hinterlands, the awful truth began to dawn upon him.

just like the trees and shrubs here, he, too, would die alone.

tanhayee.

the wind cut fiercely through his plush pelt, his eyes streaming on the breeze. he didn't know whether he wept for himself or for all the others he'd left behind.