Boartusk Heights i’m staying low, staying low, turning pages

a man patrolled in the gloomy afternoon.

the cold was a relief and not a worry. his walks could be longer when the sun did not strike down upon his back. his tasks more laborious and he would not tire so quick.

his path took him down towards the mouth of the heights. cutting along the villager’s district with the ease of any huntsman. at the end of his day’s work he would return here with meat for breaking down, he felt certain of it.

for now he only glanced around to see how other’s busied themselves before he’d make it to the entrance.