Haunted Wood my lost fearless leader

Fallen Sun was a man of few words; not that he knew many to begin with. He was a sponge of curiosity and frankly wanted to learn as many as he could, so he could one day speak the name of the woman he loved so dearly. 

If only he could find her again! 

The man bathed in dying sunlight pranced about not unlike that of a deer, so effortlessly against the darkness. His pelt unmistakable. 

If the woman in these woods was Aphrodite, he would bear semblance to Apollo. 

His nose against the ground, stirring scent that flowed as flower petals upon windswept meadows in bursts of breezes.

Sniffing.

Was there a trace of his Wind Flower here? What of Winter Song? But in the woods, he dared not howl - least those unkind to wordless wolves sought to end his noble quest.