Hushed Willows and never for a minute did he believe he could escape

got this up sooner than i thought! for @Sangue

it is cold; the bitter bite of the chilling wind that radiates off of the glacier that ingram can see the tip of in the distance seeping into his fur — still damp from the thorough swim in the sea he'd taken. he had to wash every and all traces of blackwater from his pelage; until nothing but the stink of seabrine and seaweed clung to him.

to remove trikova's scent feels like it's own kind of sin to the keeper but that is the law that she put forth to him and the druids.

protect them: at any and all cost was his mission.

a mission within a mission, within a mission — a never ending ouroboros that the unnamed god sends him on.

seaglass gaze scans the terrain around him, taking stock of immediate things: where to find shelter, the direction that the ice melt was flowing for drinking, the dominate scent trails of woodland critters scurrying to and fro.

the count down of moon phases until he could return to trikova; return home.