Nothing Worse Than An Angry Tree

Mist rolled along the ground, shrouding the trees in the distance in a soft veil that made it even harder to sense change in direction. He sidled up to another tree, shifting to his hind legs as he stretched up it and scratched another mark into the bark. He refused to get lost in this creepy place. It hadn't helped that some old loner had warned him of angry spirits living somewhere in the forest. The summer heat in the forest had only increased the humidity and he found himself panting as he tried to find his way out to the other side. He wasn't built for this weather.

Lynvarr's ears flicked back at the sound of approaching paw steps and he glanced behind him to see a small woman about his age. Her coat was pale and for a moment he wondered if she was one of the spirits he'd been warned about. "As alright as I can be in this creepy place. How about you? My name is Lynvarr."