Bramblepoint Make it after all

Stark moved quietly through the forest, his steps measured and deliberate. The woods stretched endlessly, a sea of deep greens and shadowed browns, dappled with shafts of sunlight that broke through the thick canopy. They painted beautiful fragments against his backside as he passed beneath. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular—just letting his paws fall one after another.

Now and then, he’d pause to take in the scents lingering on the breeze, picking up traces of passing deer and the faint musk of a fox. A disgusting smell, but a peaceful one nontheless. Amongst few things the wolf enjoyed, the come and go of the world around him existed endlessly. It was peaceful here, and he allowed himself to enjoy it, breathing deeply as he moved.

At one point, he came across a moss-covered log, half-rotted and blooming with small mushrooms. He settled onto it with a huff, his tail flicking lazily as he let himself relax for a moment, his gaze drifting across the landscape. A faint, distant smirk decorated the wolf's scarred face as he gazed off into the distance.

He didn't know it, but there was something to be enjoyed in the silence of his mind. Untethered by the bloodied past he couldn't remember.