Deepwood Weald i feel the weather change, i hear the river say your name

A distant call roused him from a sunbeam patch where he had flattened ferns in an undignified heap. His head had lifted sharply, perplexed at all the questions that arose from it; it was a surprise that anyone would call for him here, let alone at all. It wasn't Nyx trying to rally him or locate him, though she seemed to prefer a veiled approach to snatch him off guard (and how well she did that). His feet were beneath him before he had full awareness, and he set off hazily and leisure towards the fringes of the wood.

Who he found there in wakefulness was not who he expected, though Ceara was not an unwelcome sight. Her fiery coat jumped out from the summery foliage and he regarded her composure moments before he emerged to be seen in full. An offered wave of his tail set his mood and a wry smile crossed his countenance toothily.

"Afraid of getting lost and need a guide again?"