Hushed Willows I will be fair, but firmly cruel.

Just beyond the entrance of the Crook Stark had taken up host on a cleared patch of land. He was sunning himself, taking advantage of the warmth of the sun's rays on his back before it became to unbearably hot to do so. In a cat like fashion he had taken to grooming himself, tugging tangles out of his pelt and cleaning himself up. He finally stretched out a bit, head resting on his forearms. His day had been productive, scouted the borders some before he'd rounded back to check the lands - so far no encouraging growth but he was still going to stay optimistic that the plague had passed and there would be life returning to the lands soon enough.