Two Rivers Isle Just like ground zero was the surface of the sun

Set around the evening of the 4th. For @Kovertol.

There was a big block of time he couldn't account for even if his memory was working properly. Due to all the travelling the ranger had worn his body out to a point of unhealthy exhaustion, eating paltry bits from week old carcasses and generally taking poor care of himself. At some point he crossed the slough, found a place to crash, and did exactly that -- a day passed where he was dead to the world, and when Yellowbelly awoke he was back to being immensely confused and lost.

The man found himself in the center of a damp territory with no sign of his own progress. He had slept in the middle of nowhere, collapsed among some reeds, and now that he was awake and trying to determine his route, saw and smelled nothing of importance. There was water above him - water below - and no trail for him to follow; thus he chose a path at random and headed north, until there came sight of a distant forest cutting across the horizon as an intimidating black wedge. Still there was no sigh of anything familiar, and he grew worried.

The brute lumbered out, wanting to hunt. Hunt and eat and eat and eat. 
He drooled slightly, the sky turning shades of pink and dull grey. A shape moved off in the dimming light.
He moved towards it, sideways on. It looked like some lost fawn, stumbling about. Dirt kicked up onto the ursine's face as he bore down on the 'fawn'. An easy meal, right?

Mud splashed up onto his forehead, making him flinch and squint, shaking his head but not slowing.
Hunger. Food.
Soon enough, he was nearly upon his target, unable to see quite so well.

Yellowbelly has never been compared to a fawn before but at this point it is super accurate. He strides with quick sweeping steps, roaming further and further, absolutely lost among the newness of the world around him; then there came the sound of movement, and he was pausing. Searching, turning in place, absolutely ill prepared for the oncoming danger. He glimpsed movement and turned to meet it, but almost as soon as he did that, the reset happened. He forgot what he was doing here - saw the dark amalgamation charging towards him as some monstrous, alien shape. He never really saw it coming.

The hulk closed the last few strides and struck out, seeking to club his prey down in a foul sweep. His eyes opened finally, looking for his aim. Too late to realise it was a wolf he was clubbing down.
His paw swiped the lupine, his late correction glancing over the head. Not a killing blow, but it could be damaging. 

He grunted, pulling back before the instinct to kill took over. Was it one of his wolves? He heaved breaths, composing himself after his charge. He swallowed and licked his nose before moving in, sniffing to the wolf. He smelt like dust. Like dust you'd find in a care home. Kovertol wrinkled his nose. Not the scent of Cry's mark. 
Well, he guessed that was that. The being was still breathing and wasn't really of his concern. 

Kovertol, in his usual, dismissive fashion, wandered off to hunt an actual ungulate. He wondered if the wolves of Shadewood would help get a larger meal -- they needed it as much as him.