Deepwood Weald so blissful i press on

The weald welcomed him back with open arms, the branches snaking together overhead. Here sunlight did not quite reach the forest floor like it had in the evergreen wood, but its dappled placement illuminated all he needed to see. The rains had abated for some time now, though always a present possibility as the days stretched past their peak. Unlike his last venture here in the depths of winter fading, the crispness he found came not from the temperature, but the taste and smell of the earth.

Damp earth shifted under his steps as he moved inward, the humidity ever a constant. Conditions here did not constrict him as once before; hunting would be a far cry easier. He had separated from @Nyx again for a stint, never straying too far and never once without mentioning his intentions. Dirge did little to mask where he had gone, doing well to keep his promises that he would not lose her again—it had never needed to be said either, that promise was left unspoken as he wound his way past thick ferns and mossy stones.

A deep breath drew out the scents he sought, the hares and grouse, even the lesser favored stoats and their ilk. He separated them like threads, unsighted tendrils pulled up from the earth and tucked away in narrow paths. It was not particularly grueling work but not quite mindless; whatever he found he would split without dispute with his sister, but it would also be worth the effort he intended to expend. He settled for the hare, putting to memory where paths diverged from the grouse should the former not pan out, and set off with a satisfied chuff to himself.