Lone Star Mountain þreir

He'd meant to follow the coast. Had this big idea about walking in the salt waters whenever he could, so that those Casco Bay FUCKS couldn't track him by scent. Would they even remember his scent? A halfbreed like him? Would the aroma he bore now bear any resemblance to the injured and infection-ridden stink he'd left behind in their torture chamber? These were things he was only contemplating now, since it'd been quite impossible to follow the shore the way he'd hoped. Mostly because the shore was fucken cliffs over here. Also because he was in no mood to traverse the crumbling headlands in his current state.

He wasn't too interested in traversing the mountains, anyway, but he imagined Reverie's scent on the breeze and, even knowing it was wishful thinking, Dusty Rose had to follow it anyway. So he climbed. At least it was a steady — albeit very steep — grade.

He was firmly in familiar territory now, at least. The Sunspire Mountains had been as close as he'd come to home in these lands, though only one place could hope to carry that name, now. As that place was beside Reverie, he had little hope of reaching it today. So his pace was dogged but meandering, and, listlessly, he began following the first canid scent he came across.

"HEY," he called when he thought he could hear her pawsteps crackling across the dry pine needles. "Slow down, would you? I'm catching up!"

He chose to be annoyed that she hadn't waited up for him. Never mind that he had no idea who she was.