Phantom Hollow dear watson

Following his encounter at The Sunspire, Ovaltine had skirted the northern border of the large lake, careful to keep far enough away from (yet another!) pack that was nestled close to the spire he had visited. He then met a river, and instead of crossing it, decided to follow it north. It wound this way and that, meandering like rivers tend to do. Eventually, the drifter came upon a quiet—and in his mind—serene forest, thick with moss, rocks, and low-hanging branches. Perhaps to some it was unsettling, but Ovaltine found it quite the opposite.

As he did whenever he came to a new place, Oval wondered whether or not it had been christened. Perhaps it was "Moss Wood" or "Wandering Wood." The latter was better liked by the loner, if only because of the alliteration. How he did love the way it felt upon the tongue. Ovaltine's feet kept moving along the river, green eyes flitting around this new place, filled with wonder and appreciation.