Neverwinter Forest living on a promised word

the morning is thick with a cool mist as ezra leaves the heartwood behind, knowing that severing that cord was the only way he'd truly leave his place of chosen isolation. he seeks to search for @Anselm and @Gideon now in earnest, not sure if they would linger where he'd parted with them.

it feels like an ouroboros of a journey that begun when he'd embarked upon with his mother ... before. before she'd gotten sick and God had stolen her from him.

he was either a snake swallowing its tail in an endless loop, or simply a young man being a masochist because the hurt is the only way he knows he is alive. but the heroes thrived in tragedy, did they not? at least, this is what ezra tells himself. saints suffered, it was why they had became saints. enduring endless suffering in their path to divinity, to taste holiness.

and ezra is desperate to taste it. to dine upon the golden ambrosia of the gods.

his steps slow as the scent of a pack grows stronger; a stark contrast to the earthen and pine smell that the mist draws from the sodden ground and pine trees. he, wrapt in his thought, moved closer to their borders than he'd intended to. his steps stop, his fur damp and sticking to him in places where the mist collected. he gives a coat a shake, for all the good it did.

he deliberates for a moment, golden gaze of burning twinsuns stares at the neverwinter forest through the invisible barrier of scent markings. he doubts his father and brother had come this way, but it was worth asking at least. so, he tilts his head back and lets out a howl, announcing his presence at their borders.