Enocra Woodland

Pine, spruce and firs alike...
Dense coniferous forests cover the woodlands, with clearings, paths and the occasional wildberry shrub throughout. Pine, spruce and fir make up much of the forest in the east, with the forest becoming swampier in the west towards Mecor Valley. In the west, cypress trees dominate, with fallen trees creating bridges across and throughout the stillwaters.

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All of your flaws - Freyr
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Dirk wasn’t sure that Siren traveled this far North from her packlands but of late he’d felt the compulsion to explore the entire eastern half of Moladion just so that he knew the land and the nature of those in it. He was compelled to make sure that his wee shadow had nothing to fear when her madness made her wander. Currently he had no backing or leverage to remove her from her neglectful pack but the idea had been growing in his mind that it might be good to do a bit of raiding once he was settled. It had been what felt like ages since he’d banded together with a clan and raided another.

With that in mind, Dirk had also been contemplating putting himself out there, befriending other wolves with the hope that he could find allies in this new land. Allies that he might curry favor with so that they could watch over Siren when he could not. Dirk had learned from his past mistakes; caring for a woman who’d lost all reason was not a job for a lone wolf. He recognized that now and though logically his clan should share in his guilt, his subconscious wasn’t particularly logical when it came to his lost family. Neither had it been particularly logical when it had latched on to his wee shadow in the field before winter had set in. But his subconscious and his honor had made up his mind for him and he would see it through.

The lass would not come to harm if he could help it.

Shaking his head, Dirk concentrated on his surroundings once more, pale front paws picking through the snow and underbrush as bare branches from the slumbering and tangled foliage grabbed at his thick fur. He’d not spent too much time in the woodlands since his arrival but he had to admit that, even in winter, there was something almost magical about the place. Snorting at his own fanciful thoughts, Dirk paused when he heard a rustling in the distance. Tense and alert, the large male tilted his head slightly toward the sound, trying to discern if it was just a squirrel not properly tucked away for the cold months or if it was something to be concerned about.




Dirk
Five years old. My heart is my own. My soul is my own. I pledge my fealty to no one.
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