The Heartwood Take the oxygen straight out of my own chest.

November 29
Set after this thread.

This place was familiar, even with the snow blustering at dizzying speeds from the heavens. He'd sought it out as a form of shelter foremost; the meadow he'd been wandering through felt as if it would go on endlessly until that moment where Revui noticed the trees, veiled as they were by the spectral eddies of white noise. He knew this place well enough, having navigated it in the past on hunts and patrols with his siblings. He did not think of Moonspear despite the looming shape of the mountain in the distance—he did not think of his family as followed trail after trail through the woods, so focused was he on his task. The only thing to break his fixation was the occasional scent of prey; but try as he might, Revui could not discern where the mice fled to, or if the rabbit trails were fresh, or if the half-buried hollows he came across housed anything living. His heavy steps resounded between the trees; the crunch of each stride echoed in to the earth and would scare away anything near, and so he continued to suffer, to be plagued by a dizzying hunger.