Climbing rocks

Thorn walked slowly through the landscape. He planned to make a map of the fjord and he was looking at how the land he’d need to properly show the changes in the height that were so dramatic here. The water was beautiful but the taste of salt was still in it. The weather had been a dreary sort as if undecided. The humidity weighed on him and rain came in slow drizzles with a grey sky above. No sign of the sun in this weather.

Thorn scented funguses both along the banks and under the trees. Some type of insect could be heard in various trees, a gentle background noise in a relatively quiet place. When the wind blowed the leaves rattled on the leaves and those that had fallen on rocks danced about.

The giant wolf had an equally giant sword strapped to his back. He never left it home, no matter how peaceful his intentions were. It was both for protection, keeping his muscles in shape for it, and honestly, it would feel weird not to have the weight on his back.

"Thorn Carpathius"