The days would soon be dwindling further into Fall, then Winter - but the woods had, so far, kept their colour and a full complement of leaves. Quinn wanted to visit some of the areas that nestled around Verdantis before the frost set in and on-foot travel became more difficult; not blessed with full wings, scouting on four legs was all Quinn could do. Better to know the area well before it was heaped with snow than to end up lost later.
The sentry’s sharp eyes were never still when he was reading the land: they darted from the peeling trunk of a silver birch, to the warm hues of the treetops, to a scrap of yellow flora between the trees, back to the canopy and - wait. That yellow seemed awfully out of place against the russets and golds of the everfall forest. Quinn drew in a long breath as he wove between the slim trunks of the towering trees, testing the air for scent. He could only identify flora so he picked up his pace, making a beeline for what he could soon see were withered petals.
It was what he saw upon trotting up to it that bamboozled him.
A pup sat there - at least, Quinnat thought it was a pup. It had fur, a face, legs, what appeared to be crinkled petals atop its back. It seemed to smell more of floral notes than wolf - but that couldn’t be right, unless it had been rolling in a meadow shortly before entering the Brightwood. He looked around for signs of some sort of caretaker but found no other presence.
“Are you…” A flower? An illusion? No, both would sound insane. Quinn settled for, “...lost?” He paused to taste the air again. “Where did you come from?”
The sentry’s sharp eyes were never still when he was reading the land: they darted from the peeling trunk of a silver birch, to the warm hues of the treetops, to a scrap of yellow flora between the trees, back to the canopy and - wait. That yellow seemed awfully out of place against the russets and golds of the everfall forest. Quinn drew in a long breath as he wove between the slim trunks of the towering trees, testing the air for scent. He could only identify flora so he picked up his pace, making a beeline for what he could soon see were withered petals.
It was what he saw upon trotting up to it that bamboozled him.
A pup sat there - at least, Quinnat thought it was a pup. It had fur, a face, legs, what appeared to be crinkled petals atop its back. It seemed to smell more of floral notes than wolf - but that couldn’t be right, unless it had been rolling in a meadow shortly before entering the Brightwood. He looked around for signs of some sort of caretaker but found no other presence.
“Are you…” A flower? An illusion? No, both would sound insane. Quinn settled for, “...lost?” He paused to taste the air again. “Where did you come from?”