This place was quieter than Dawnbreak, and he hardly felt like he belonged there these days anyway. So he roamed, the wind moving through the hanging curtains of crimson wisteria, that carried rustling leaves and the distant calls of wildlife. He moved through the undergrowth at an unhurried pace, weaving between patches of fallen petals that painted the forest floor red and white. There had been no destination in mind when he'd left Dawnbreak that morning. Restlessness had driven him from home more than anything else, it sat beneath his ribs and made staying still feel impossible.

So he'd walked. And walked.

And eventually he found himself here.

His ears would twitch and pace would slow at the sound of shifting branches overhead, his gaze lifted toward the canopy. At first all he saw were tangled branches until a silhouette resolved among them, a figure perched high above the ground. Was that...a wolf? ...in a tree? ...What the hell? his eyes narrowed, he stood frozen for several seconds staring upward with the same expression one might reserve for witnessing a fish casually walking across a field.

Y'know, he finally called up his voice carrying through the trees, most folk use trees for shelter.

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