Moonspear hopes and dreams, they will collide

Winter had settled in with all its glory: another round of heavy snows to blanket the mountainside. While the children no doubt found this advent enjoyable, Dirge did not. The visibility on high slipped away to nil, and any chance he had hoped for in spying out a trailhead left behind by a herd or some tasty morsel had gone with it. It was disheartening, but not quite dismaying; tomorrow would be another day, and they had endured many tomorrows thus.

So with that off the books for the day, he gave in to simply wandering. Something gentle to ease the ever present worries away, at least for a moment. Winter meant a firm cap to where he could and could not go, and there was still much that he had not mapped that had been changed by the tumultuous events of weeks past. The snow would make such hazardous and an early end was something he did not fathom or wish for.