Broken Antler Fen they say he's changed

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It had been too many days of harsh travel, and so when the land finally gave away to a dense, timbered wetland, Zeal was inclined to explore the area and see what it held in store for him. The air was warm and sweet with the scent of sedges and cedar, frogs and insects hummed against a backdrop of whispering breeze. The pewter man paced along, unheeding of the underbrush that scraped at his thick pelt or the scent he left behind here. It felt good to have soft earth underfoot again.

There was a gentle, rolling downward slope to the land that gave way to spongy, almost wet earth the further he went, the grasses growing ever thicker and more lush. If there was a good supply of water here, then perhaps he had found somewhere worth hunting, maybe even sticking around for a while. Pacing out into a more open area, he scanned the verdant wood for signs of life, enjoying the feel of the sun on his shoulders. Though a meal would not go amiss, he found that was not against the idea of a little company today, either. He wondered if there were any packs or loners about this area, as quiet as it seemed he did not think such a place worthy of emptiness.