Kildeer Rest Jagerfly

Evening had fallen in the Teekon wilds. The last remnants of sunlight had spilled over the mountains more than an hour before Jörmungandr had stepped into the field of swaying grass. The wind did little to cool the air, but it stirred to life scents and noises that the dark figure had never known. His eye drifted from the grass plain to the distant mountains and the land that stretched in between.

Slowing, Jörmungandr sniffed at the earth. There were scents that he knew mingled with scents that were foreign. He frowned. The breeze brushed against the hair at his ears, and he shook his head to relieve the feeling of a whispering voice from his head. From the wood at his back cawed a dark-feathered raven. Jörmungandr would take this as a good sign.

The dark wolf pressed on, searching for signs of where the traveling wolves had journeyed.