Shadewood the wood's labyrinth

The minute sounds of the woodland were a comfort, the morning chill seeping into his coat was less so - he felt a tangible unease, the sound of birds and rustled leaves all that lent him company. It was a better sound than the mocking laughter that had dogged his recent days, but it was still an unknown landscape to him, doubly so with the layer of frost keen to spin him astray. This place held little more familiarity than the stars held mortality. Yet, he knew better to linger on it, stepping through grass and perching up on a root where it defied the ground beneath it. It groaned under his weight, threatening to snap.

He paused then, frowning; pale eyes scanning the dark, nose tipped upward - his paranoia was swiftly the better of him. His paw upon the root flexed, nails scraping at the lines in the bark. He knew better. His voice was quiet, but carried through the dimness, Hello?

Cormorant's head sunk a little lower, sniffing, trying to swim through the murk of oak and soil. He stepped forward, tentative, lip twitching to bare a row of white - his mind to assume the worst.