The Sentinels Wander

the charred forest had become a kind of a home to the nomad, who'd often traverse its shaded paths and admire the still-standing black giants.

the proximity of packs made things awkward, yes, but he'd learned to still his singing when the wind shifted out his favour.

or, at least, he was in the process of learning.

this tune was hummed as the bard ambled along a deerpath, bits and branches tugging at his corded coat and eventually ending up attached to the same. like at most times, he let his mind remain devoid of thoughts, enjoying his simple existence.

the humming carried itself throughout the woods.