Deepwood Weald To wander

At the moonwoman's assurance, the phantom claw that gripped his chest loosened. Had he forgotten how to breathe? The uncertainty remained, but he had regained some of his spirit.

Perhaps not. I've always had tendency to roam before coming here to the wilds.

His eyes lifted to the older woman. A spark of interest brightening his gaze. The bison hunt had been thrilling. Invigorating. The prospect of hunting alongside others again uplifting. To the moonwoman's smile he offered his own.

I think I would like it there.