Moonspear long in tooth and soul

Another chilly day, another example of the season turning sharp and swift towards winter. The leaves curled, clutching tight their greenery for yet another day, but even he knew it would not be long before they shed pelage and offered such to still damp soil. The trembling had quieted for now, though Dirge could not quite hold tight to the reassurance that all was well, and had not dared to venture too high along the mountainside.

He took refuge in the thick forest where pine boughs draped roughly against his dark, earthen coat; where the shade and breeze alike made the picturesque vista seem all that more winter ready. If not for the birds, there would have been a resolute silence there that proved unsettling and even he took note of the absence the roving herds left.

Sparing a thought of where they could have gone was relatively pointless—they would return when all was quiet, when all was at some base normalcy again. If they had rendered their range to the flatlands beyond the foothills, then they would hunt them out there in time. Though no easy feat, he did not doubt the collective prowess in all their ability to drive them back to hearth and heartland, and preferably before autumn gave way to the icy grasp of years end.

A sigh loosened as he stretched, and hind legs kicked the ground as he started off.

@Arcturus maybe?