Ruins of Wildwood
Sunrise Ridge obsidian storm - Printable Version

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obsidian storm - Cajun - May 01, 2018

The days had become a restless, jumbled mess.

He found the ridge as it snaked up through the earth at daybreak, a weariness long set in his bones. The coyotes were quite the damper to all his plans, and it had been quite a trick or two to evade them where he could. It still didn't change the fact that he had and would stay true to his course though as of late it seemed a fool's errand. Cajun had considered turning back a time or two but it was less than gentle determination that drove him northward. He couldn't avoid being stubborn as he crested the forested line, legs aching and eyes lighting on what laid ahead.

The mountains had started to abate and he thought maybe now, he would make the trek east. But a little rest was in order first, provided he didn't find himself accosted once again shortly. Like the way the ridge had snaked up from the earth, the young Ostrega ventured out again to follow an old path. Somewhere tucked away would suit him for a bit; he hoped whatever mysteries this particular locale kept would provide for seeking eyes and tired body what was needed most. If it did not, then it would have been par for course once again—he had already foregone a few things over the last stretch of days.