Moving south, it's actually not too bad. Spring had sprung here. It felt strange, damn near surreal, as he cut wide around the Hallows. Though Dread knew that they harbored promise of a warm hearth, a good meal, and family... he can't. He can't bring himself to do it. An ache that lived deep in his ribcage pressures him away from it. Frankly, he'd rather sleep in the woods than face it. It's not that he detests his blood, quite the opposite. There are too many ghosts beyond the borders, particularly within the walls of the castle. The most of which, Dread can't bring himself to face. Who knew if he ever would.
Instead, the young man moves to the southernmost border of the Aspen Dam. Gaze keen, wild. There was supposed to be a pack here, no? There was meant to be one, he could smell it. If he could smell it, then why did it look... empty? Something happened here, and Dread couldn't be quite sure what. Brow furrowed, sky beginning to turn pink around the edges. Hm.
It's too unsettling. Heeding his gut, Dread will go a while farther south before he finds somewhere to make camp for the evening.
Bard
