Chimera Fields This is my December.
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As he made his way to the Westernmost border of the vast Neverwinter Forest, Talion happened across a familiar trail. The tracks in the snow are compact, clustered close to suggest that the herd had travelled through the woods in single file. Pausing to lower his head and test the freshness of their scent on the frozen ground, he finds it to be relatively fresh; he assumes they passed by no more than an hour prior. Lifting his muzzle, Talion followed the cloven prints with his frosty eyes as they disappear among the foliage toward the rolling fields beyond.

He made a decision then to stop and rest, and found a snug place between some exposed tree roots. Curling up among them, the peppered yearling tucks his raven-tipped snout beneath his tail and closes his eyes, letting tension seep from his worn muscles as sleep begins to wash over him almost instantly.

Dawn had begin to break when the young Roux-Abrhen roused from his nap and, after a quick stretch, he resumed his mission. Crossing into the meadow, Talion squinted against new daylight and padded stayed directly on the herd's trail. When he found them settled at the foot of the spine, some resting and some digging in the snow to graze on the grasses beneath, he gave them a wide berth. The one stag lifted his proud antlers as he spotted the sterling wolf and pointed his snout toward him as he rumbled a warning, a reminder that he keep his distance. Talion had no intention of being trampled or gored that day, and moved along to search for a good vantage point.

He skirted around the elk, though they barely looked in his direction. For a group as large as theirs, a single yearling predator was no cause for concern. Ascending a gentle slope, Talion stopped at its peak and turned to settle, laying sphinx-like in the snow to begin his count.

He rounded them to at least twenty, and on his second check he counted twenty four exactly. A lone stag and his harem, not another buck in sight. Talion reminded himself that their rut would've ended only recently, and the leader would have likely chased his sons from previous years and any other competitors far from the females to secure his own chances of airing the next year's fawns. He stayed there for a time, noting that they seemed like a strong group with the exception of a couple of females that showed their age, and a yearling with a slight limp in her near hind as she walked. The others seemed to realise the tenderness of her stride, and she was mostly surrounded.

Rising, Talion stole away quietly. He ventured back in the direction of the forest he'd travelled through to head south toward Moonspear, where he would deliver news to Hydra and hopefully earn his place.