Noctisardor Bypass in the moonlight

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he has tread a long, winding path through the inner root of the valley. large paw prints pressed into the cold-packed snow, his thick fur resilient against the violent wind chill that tosses about him.

another patrol route. he scents along the criss crossing of old and new trails that do not belong to him, taking note of who has come and gone. none that he did not know, or at least knew for sure did not belong in the bypass.

the warden continues on with a shrug of shoulders, reaching back to nip at the black bear fur hide he wears. tugging it closer, up over the ruff of his neck to keep the cold from biting through.

he walks past the pale woman without ceremony. the red eyes that cut towards her the only acknowledgement of her existence.

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