Ouroboros Spine take me home

Slight powerplay with some narrative here -- figured they could get there instead of talking about it; if it's not all right, let me know and I'll rewrite.

Not being a wolf from the north, Mordecai could not have imagined the cold that Dijax desired. Though truth be told, the tawny Ostrega did not wish for the warmth of his home either. The Wilds had settled somewhere in the middle of both for the most part, though as the temperatures dropped and the air dampened with a sharp, prickling chill, he could only wonder what they would face. Being off the coast, even as far inland as they were, those trade winds from their north and west rolled across them smoothly. As if to punctuate those idly thoughts, he could hear the moan of the wood from a distant gust.

They were lucky in some regard, as the basin did not take the brunt of many windstorms. “This way,” he said, taking the lead and stepping ahead of the wounded. His path went roughly in the way that Dijax had originally took, but Mordecai began to deviate from it in due time, curving towards the east silently. He kept his pace light to ensure his companion could follow him, and in case worst came to worst. If Dijax stumbled or otherwise collapsed, Mordecai would try his hand at aiding him.

As they neared the stream, Mordecai gave a cursory glance back to the Russian. “Careful through here. I've learned the moss can be slippery a time or two.” The land gave way to a depression, lined with age old stones to guide them down. Not a steep drop by any means; it was something they could have easily avoided by hopping the stout change of elevation. Time had allowed the streams to wear them down, and Mordecai had wondered a time or two to himself if the stream had displaced the stones generations ago.