Pastel Highlands stone hedge

@Artemus -- Hope you don't mind but I'm going to use Ayashe's spooky random event

RE: The night is extraordinarily dark and spooky sounds can be heard outside your den. Hope you're not afraid.

Ayashe had continued into the highlands, moving north after her encounter with Elio in the Shroud of the Lost. She had been close to the northern weather for most of her life, and so moving towards the comfort of the more chilly winds had brought her a sense of peace. She moved in the night, preferring the darkness for the way the stars shown bright in the sky… but even her paws could grow weary and tired.

She had found a small den to hide out in. Based on the stale scents, she assumed that it was formerly the home to some other kind of predator. Regardless, it would work for the night.

She hummed quietly to herself, the whistling of the wind howling at her allowing sleep to evade her further. She shuddered softly, a frown and a gentle whine escaping as she looked around at the lands outside. There was a harsh whistling and it was enough to cause her to jump, not quite brave enough to make her way out of her den.

Artemus had continued to journey south, finally escaping the uneven grassland of the misty moors, to ascend into the highlands. The increased visibility (even at night) was in stark contrast to the lowlands, and he was finally able to soak in the rugged scenery around him. The wind was also less harsh, though it still whistled past his ears it did not batter his face with such ferocity as it did on the moors. The large male was thankful for it, as his nose had begun to grow cracked and dry being exposed to the harsher weather over several days.

Skulking his way beneath the dark, starlit sky, his limbs began to grow tired of the constant movement. Artemus had been travelling for weeks, allowing himself little time for rest. Now though, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the incessant ache in his bones. He knew he would have to allow himself some time to sleep and recover, though he refused to settle down for the night just anywhere. The wolf wanted somewhere less exposed than simply the sloping grassland of the highlands, he wanted somewhere he could lay low and remain unnoticed whilst he slept.

Caramel eyes scanned the darkness for an indent in the sloping hills, looking for a small dug-out crevasse or natural dip in the land. He spotted a small dark area further uphill and moved to approach it, breathing in the concoction of scents which wafted up from what he later determined to be an old den-site. Though it was far from abandoned. The sound of the screeching wind muffled the gentle whines of the wolf who hunkered down inside it, leading Artemus to believe that the den was empty until he finally stood in front of it and spotted a pair of eyes reflecting back at him.

Artemus flinched, taking a staggered step back as his white fangs flashed out from behind his charcoal lips in surprise. "Oh, I didn't realise this place was occupied." He admitted, feeling a little foolish. He brushed his tongue over his lips to recompose himself before he offered a neutral wave of his tail to the stranger.

Tried as she might to put the feeling out of her mind, there was that creeping unease that came with all of the sounds that were arising outside of the den. Despite her eyes being half closed, the tension in her body showed she was still awake, betraying her in many respects in that way. She had never been particularly superstitious, despite the fact that her homeland was increasingly superstitious itself… but even she could not deny that something wicked this way came.

She almost jumped when she caught the white fangs and the sudden appearance of the body, yelping as she shot to her feet, taking a few steps back as her teeth bared in a snarl, a reflex and instinct because of the man’s sudden appearance before he was speaking… and in that moment, it processed that she was not in any danger, and the man did not intend to cause her arm. She blinked, feeling foolish herself for being so on edge as she shook her head. Perhaps some company might even assist her in her endeavor as well, some conversation to block out the wicked noises coming from outside the den.

“No, it is okay, sir.” The thick northern accent carried over the air, the consonants slurring slightly into the vowels to create a husky accent similar to that of a Slavic language like Russian, though it carried it’s own distinct language markers. “The noises… outside, there are these strange noises, they just have me on edge.” She let it act as an apology without saying the words ‘I am sorry’ to the man in front of her. She also offered no name, manners lost on her in that moment, as they often were in other moments as well.

“There is more than enough room… if you would like to stay. You seem tired.” She knew the feeling, related to it on an almost spiritual level, though she was younger and less used to such rugged travel as she had come across in recent days.