Felltree Marsh black bridge

The young hellhound wanders from his brothers side for a few hours. Wanting some alone time to just think. Which is never good for him because Banesteppe is always right there to say something smart. He ignores the entity most of the time, but more recently he’s found himself just dealing with him. Even occasionally talking back which earns him a steady pat on the head and smart remark. Which only pisses him off.

Either way, he keeps moving, even when he finds himself in a swamp where his heavy weight is hardly supported by the ground at all it seems. The mud sticks to his paws and the streams and ponds are dark and cold. A dark and dreary place, all except for the beautiful weeping willows that spot the marsh occasionally.

Only he’s stopping in his tracks when he sees a pale furred wolf ahead. His head was already hung low as he moved, but he raises it up a pinch more. Sniffing the air, he tries to catch her scent on the wind but fails. The stink of mud is overpowering and he must be upwind. He curious though, so he moves forwards languidly. Surely she’d spot him, for he only truly blends into the backdrop at night.

He would chuff at her to signal his presence, feral eyes looking her up and down as he stops a comfortable distance away. His dark tongue rasps over his chops as he looks to make direct eye contact with her.

“Looking for something?” He asks lowly, his tone drab and emotionless — his question coming out more as a statement.