Ravensblood Forest never seemed to matter as the night slipped away

Beyond the river crossing, the mountains closed in swiftly. By that point, Rickshaw no longer cared that they were ahead of him on the horizon, looming like dark monoliths built by creatures far greater than himself. Instead he decided he would dare to thread through them in the midst of winter. Beneath the cover of the shadowy woodland and its weeping trees, he moved through near silent and snake-like. It was warmer here than out on the plains and for that he was thankful; the last several days had been bone chilling enough that it may have been a small feat that exposure had not claimed him when the winds had picked up.

Waning sunlight of the early afternoon tore through the bottom of the clouds, though obscured by the inclusion of the rocky mountains that surrounded him. It left the path ahead riddled with confusing light sources by still made it clear enough to travel by. Where he suspected the woodland may have deterred others from travel, it did not trouble him as much as trying to feel out a way between the rocky landscapes at either side of him. So far, barring some foothills, he had not crested anything particularly towering or dangerous. But that didn't mean that such dangers did not lurk around the next bend, but then again so far he had managed to make his way across the region without much trouble.

Whether or not that would change, well, that was anyone's guess.

nathaniel rateliff & the night sweats — howling at nothing