Mathéo Tainn came and went without much regard for the border these days – no one had much regard for him, not really, and so he felt no urge to do the same. Only itchy feet compelled the young ghost, but a sense of duty always brought him back home to the center of his gravitational pull. If it wasn’t to Hearthwood River, it was to where the dead wolves were buried beneath the Ethos.
But today, he lingered longer. Today, Mathéo Tainn had made a delightful discovery – spheres, giant spheres, bigger than rocks! Made of ice and water, all along the shoreline of Turtleback Lake. He had no idea what they were, or how the lake had churned out such things when the river hadn’t, but the youth was happy to bark and dance around them on his lonesome, chewing away on the largest of boulders as he tried to get to the center. Who knew what was on the inside?