Blackfeather Woods pollen and politics will be the death of me

@Titmouse

Sang had spent the few days since his initiation attempting to grasp an idea on how and where exactly Blackfeather's claim lied. Once he felt comfortable along the outer stretches of the woodland, he moved inward, prepared to explore the inner reaches of the forest and all it had to offer him. He hadn't discovered much so far, save for a ravine, and by the time he finally got around to mapping out a worth while area, night had set upon the wilds. 

He would have kept exploring however the mere lack of light kept him from doing so. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dusky, unlit weald and while enough sunlight crept through during the day to aid him in his exploration, nightfall was a whole different story. So without an further push to keep him going, the crimson brushed man fell to his haunches and let out an airy huff, unsure of how to occupy his time now.

It took a lot of time to grow used to Blackfeather Wood's dark ecosystem. The shadows were deeper and longer here than elsewhere, the trees more huddled, the wildlife more furtive. It was dim and gloomy even in the middle of a sunny day, but at night it was positively impossible to navigate if you weren't familiar with its every feature. Ramsay struggled with it too, now, having been gone so long from his birth home. He pressed on anyway, occasionally tripping or bumping into gnarled trunks here and there.

In the low light, Sanguinus may as well have been a wolf-shaped shadow devoid of all features. The pale of his eyes was visible by the sharp glow that reflected off them, but otherwise, the scarlet of his fur appeared black to Ramsay. He struggled for a moment to place the man before realizing from his scent that they hadn't met. Must have been another of Maegi's friends, or perhaps one of Titmouse's this time.

Sweeping forward, the dwarf quietly asked, lost? It isn't hard to lose your way in here.