Phantom Hollow sweet potato pie

On and on, the corsair's eyes began to feel heavy and his limbs were starting to become lead. It seemed as though the pale hound had all but become delirious in his attempt to return home. It might have been foolish to anyone else, but Smokestep was a Cairn; with that name, came the true devotion to the water. Without it he felt as though he was an empty husk of a creature, left to wander through the woods until he had withered away.

So lost in his thoughts and having forgotten his intention to follow the scent of another wolf, Smokestep stumbled over a single gnarled tree root and began the awkward dance in attempt to refocus his limbs. The pirate careened through the nearest brush patch and burst through the other side. His eyes were wild as he cast them from side to side in hopes that he could make the world stop spinning. Once he had found his footing again, he noticed a pale splotch near the base of a tree. The oddity was a good distance from where he stood, but the seafarer watched for several long minutes on rigid legs.