Duskfire Glacier That the people would see me too as a poet

The ravine.

Through the marsh — he took his fine time there, keen to muck his scent — and eventually to the glacier.

It was empty. A wasteland of a previous home, he could tell in the way the land had been used. Old hunting trails that had gone stale and herbal dens faded of their scents, dried leaves the only remnants. He knew not if his mysterious woman (@Sanja) had any intentions of trailing him.

For the time, he found great relief in being alone. An odd thing.