Sex: Male
Taking his time to survey the now familiar area, Borden cautiously stepped over the roots of the trees that inhabited the Wildwood. Every snow-covered area was a chance to misjudge a step, to trip on a hidden root or unseen rock. The fresh snowfall had blanketed the land well enough to conceal any deep tracks that had been made the day before. He made his way to the shape of what looked like concealed fallen log; and, with placing his front paws on top of it first, leapt onto it with care.
Raising his charcoal-black nose to the sky, he breathed the frigid air. The cold temperature barely seemed to bother him as he glanced about his immediate surroundings and then over each shoulder to ensure any newcomer wouldn't catch him by surprise. While his days of traveling and aimlessly wandering barely allowed him to encounter many nomadic creatures like himself or natives of specific territories, it amused him that he hadn't seen much of anything (aside from mice and rabbits) or anyone (other than his pack leader and a couple of lone wolves). Relic Lore, he had to admit, was ideal by all aspects - even through the recent drought the place was semi-habitable - and to not live here was a thought that was well-beyond him. For anyone to pass up the beauty and mystery of this place, he believed, would be one heck of a loss.
In the late autumn, despite the fire that had devoured most of the forest that sat at the foot of the Mountain of Dire, Borden found the Wildwood to be beautiful. Striking. Wondrous... even more so now that Winter had arrived and cloaked the ground with a thick coat of white. Smiling quietly to himself, Borden lowered himself onto his haunches, his tail automatically curling about his hind leg. It wasn't long until he stood up again though after finding that the he felt exposed, vulnerable... He slowly stepped down from his perch and continued on his way through the overgrown forest.
Cheerfully humming a made-up tune to himself to keep his mind in good spirits, he ducked underneath a low-hanging branch. With his moderate build, an obstacle like that didn't even concern him, and he easily slipped by. It wasn't until he came upon the charred area of the forest that his merry song ceased. The smell of scorched wood still lingered in the air, causing him to wrinkle his muzzle in disgust. Even with the beauty Winter bestowed upon the land, the frost was not enough to bring him happily through the southern portion of the Wildwood.
Knots in the tree trunks seemed to give the surviving trees a life all their own, their every distinct feature emphasized by burn marks and their lack of foliage. After several moments of debating and staring at the singed territory, the mountain wolf scoffed. Not today... He was in too good of a mood to be spooked by a bunch of lifeless trees or lack thereof. With one final chuckle to himself, he redirected his leisurely (and cautious) stroll away from the recovering woodland, navigating his way back towards the small glade where he had found the fallen tree trunk.
