Moonspear as dark as the fallen star

"Bits and pieces when the weather was better," he commented as they slipped past old boulders. "I followed the river up through the summer, spent most of my time thereafter in the west and along the coast." The hinterland had captivated him for quite a time, being the poont of reference that had separated him from Saor. Nyx had gone astray somewhere before that with not much more than fleeting scents washed away by summer rains; he pondered briefly where that internal compass would guide him come spring.

"But as for around here, I can't claim to have wandered too much. Wouldn't do me well to have anyone think I've gone missing," or worse, though he did not add such. The mountain itself offered prime vistas, but he had stayed to the lower reaches for the bulk of his tenure. Winter would more than likely keep him barred from climbing too high, at least where others of more sure feet hadn't ventured. Falling to his death was perhaps the most unappealing end he could think of.