And all the roads that lead to you

Spring brought with it plenty of rain and snow-melt, which meant one thing in the depths of the gorge. Mud. So much mud. His work on the arena was on hold until things got a little more dry to avoid his work being washed away while the ground was soft and the rains were heavy. The last few days had finally shown some clear skies, giving the packlands just enough time to dry out before the next storm rolled in. He didn't trust it to last, but it was nice to be able to walk without getting absolutely filthy.

Crossing the river near the future site of the arena, Ignatius made his way to the open field where the majority of the gorge's herbs tended to grow. The grass was beginning to take hold and thicken up with new brightly colored shoots poking up from the soft ground. He was no healer, but he knew enough to know what to keep an eye out for so that when the plants were ready to harvest he would notice. He'd considered trying to grow herbs specifically, or perhaps transplanting some from lands further away, but that seemed like a large project to take on on top of all the other things he had to manage, so it would have to wait.

Settling himself in the midst of the open space, Ig sighed contentedly. His fiery coat stood out brilliantly against the soft green landscape, likely startling all the prey within a mile of him.