It's all so incredibly loud

Mortis had travelled to the North on a whim, perhaps a part of him wanting to find the very thing that had drawn his mother out this way. To find what she had not, and finish what she had started. The problem was, he really wasn’t much of a navigator. He found his way into the woods where his grandmother had once taken him to train him in hunting, and got turned around. He had thought he found the clearing they had hunted from, but the day the two had been out here it had been snowing heavily, and everything looked different.

A slow, sad smile turned up his lip as he imagined that old scarred wolf beside him. The shadow of her ghost in the darkening dusk. When he turned his head, his imagination failed him, and he knew she was not there. A slow ache blossomed in his chest, and he picked up his pace, running from the feelings. From his loss. He always ran from the things he should face.

The evening moved on, and the darkness grew until he knew he would have to camp for the night. Instead of trying to find somewhere dry and warm beneath the trees, he began to climb. He had always been a good climber, and the cluster of limbs made for plenty of foot holds as he made his way into a nock, and curled up. Letting sleep take him.

He woke sometime late into the day with the sound of something moving about beneath him. He yawned, cracking open an eye and shaking out his stiff coat, wiggling out of the space he had curled into it. As he moved along the limb of a tree, he locked down and saw a small, young pup wandering about in the woods. “Hello” he called down “Are you lost?” Mortis sure was.

"Mortis Fatalis"