The Heartwood Can't Tell me There's No Point In Trying

Assuming Dangoth is already present — feel free to tell me to change it if he is not and I’ll edit this post. <3

Alduin, ever unaware that there was a new wolf in their lands, goes about his day like any other. Marking territory and patrolling the borders, but besides that, he had found  solice in the great forest beyond the cave. He does not find himself there today though, no, rather he hears Dreven’s howl while he wades through the mossy river in the Sinkhole — the swamp covering a section of their crispy homeland. The Heartwood, where life ever so slowly begins to sprout once more.

But death still lingers and it is not only in the shape of licking flames that left nothing but charred skeletons of logs and soot. No, no, no, death also walks on four legs, coat ashen and charcoal much like The Heartwood itself. 

The hellhound. The Revenant. The Reaper.

Alduin.

Short, torn auds swivel at the rasping howl and he steps heavy, sodden paws from the river he wades through. Making his way over black ash covered ground pinpricked with subtle signs of life. But what little their is is crushed beneath a heavy, clawed foot as he trots in the direction his Harbinger calls from.

Only a few minutes later does the Revenant himself appear. Lumbering forth to slow his trot into a languid, almost lazily paced saunter. Immediately, bloody orbs find Dreven. His greeting to him is a slight cock of a single circular brow and a downwards nod of his head. 

That is until he sees the man beside him. 

Crimson eyes meet the other’s bright blue first — a clashing of fire and ice — such a interesting color paired with a silvery scarred pelt. Though his perpetually emotionless visage stays as such, his brows pinch with muted interest. He even dares to lift his head, where he usually keeps it level with a straight back.

“And who have you brought to me, Dreven?” He wonders aloud, tone tipping just a pinch higher to display his curiosity.