Bearclaw Valley cigarettebud

The healing wounds stretched and pulled with each movement, but he paid them little mind. Pain was a familiar companion, and he had no patience for coddling himself.

The air was sharp and cold, carrying the scent of snow and the faint trace of wolves that had passed before him. He followed the trail with purpose, his amber eyes scanning the trees for any sign of the Regina.

@Ameline.

Her name carried weight in his mind, a figure of authority and composure. She was who he needed to see, hoping to hear his request from the girl on the outskirts. Forsythia.