Haunted Wood the same tragedies: ultimate damnation

the scent of verapaz had been throughly washed from his coat, until the sandviper smells of nothing but the sharp tang of desert blooms and oasis musks. he'd been careful, methodical in his methods ... and once he was sure that he carried only the desert's mark upon him did he set off, heading inland; trading the comforting grit of sand that he blended so very well into for the forests and meadows.

he moves through the shadowed woodland, trying and failing to shrug off the eerie feeling that he was being watched — by the living or those lingering within the ether he could not be sure — as he tracks a small deer herd; also methodical. it was coincidence but coincidence that he uses to his advantage as he draws nearer enough to the caldera's borders to deduce what he can from their borders.

the small herd of five does not seem all that perturbed by the pack living just next door and lingers to the side of the woodlands that walls their borders. a boon for the sandviper as he lingers beneath the guise of tracking the herd, shadowing the ungulates to keep him close the caldera, trying not to raise suspicion, as the herd grazes without care.