Nocturne Summit submerged in limbo

A low, thick fog lingered in the foothills of the summit, the sun already beginning its ascent towards morning. It was fitting to the chill there was always there, though that chill seemed more permanent now than it had in the past; a constant reminder of how quickly the summer had slipped through. It had been over a month since he had abandoned the weald altogether, an uncounted effort had been put forth to try and suss Nyx out but with little success—if she simply did not want to be found, then it would be so. While it pained him to see her move on, he did not hold it against her. Perhaps it had simply been for the best.

He was adrift once again, not that he ever had much direction to begin with. His spirits were holding together better than he anticipated, and any outward notion that he was anything other collected was absent. He slipped through sparse forests not unlike a wraith, following in the wake of elk that had moved through. Their steps were still fresh in the mud despite a healthy cover of frost; if he had to guess, they had passed through some handful of minutes prior, descending while they still could without walking into the waiting jowls of wolves and cougars and the like.

Moonspear still cut a considerable sight even against the rise of the summit; it seemed a fool's errand to even linger this close when he had given himself appropriate distance before. Yet he had not seen hide nor hair of @Hydra since their last encounter, and a distraction was certainly what he desired. With winter all but knocking on their proverbial door, he tempted fate on the chance she too, would be out to seek the herds as they migrated. But here, well, he certainly also ran the risk of crossing paths with any number of other potentially recognizable faces as well.