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for Ithiel, in the southern part of the territory Near the River Styx... I'm SO sorry I rambled, this is what happens when i get interrupted... again and again -_-
Alder looked up, blue eyes scanning the sky as the horse moved beneath him. His hand rested on the neck of the stallion, the gait for familiar that the slow rocking could have put hm to sleep if he was tired enough. The clouds were rolling in, a dreary prediction for the forthcoming weather. Snow was not disdained by the male, for he had witnessed it's fury and held a respect for the element. But it would make the trip back to the Court harder then he wished. Trusting the eyes of the horse he had bonded with Alder looked back, checking that small doe was still secured tightly to Hawthorn's rump. Giving it a nod he patted the black tick neck and encouraged him forward with a small note of low-speech.
A heavy exhale spoke of the ease he felt through his shoulders, accomplishment sitting in his mind and the silence of the forest feeding his confidence. His hunt had taken him north, to a territory that was unfamiliar but far from treacherous. It had been worth the travel, the doe would be a good meal and with the cold preserving it would make the trip to perhaps feed a pack mate as well.
Easily and slowly they made their way south, the river to their left and the game trail distinct. His mind slipped away, thoughts rolling back away from the present and towards the past. Not knowing how much time had passed he wobbled, rousing him. Hawthorn paused, and Alder's brow tightened. The path ended, a trunk crossing it's width. Alder turned the horse and grew more thoughtful as he directed him through brush and thickets. The wide chested stallion parted the thin branches with ease. He could hear the rush of the river, and it was no longer distant as Alder had once thought. Growing anxious it pushed him to change his direction again, a hand resting on the prize that was tied against the horse.
They were not lost, the river was behind them... the sound was drifting. But still his thoughts were reeling. A soft heel to the horse's side encouraged him on, though 'Thorn slowed in hesitation. The deer beneath his hand moved, eyes looked back to take measure of the knots quality and then he felt rider and horse lean forward. The ditch had come from nowhere, the horse encouraged on though knowing that the land was uneasy. Spooked as easily as a horse was Alder tried to regain control but the pair stumbled down the embankment, sliding on snow and mud and making a mess of any graceful recovery.
Alder was left leading the horse on foot-paw and up the other side of the forge, an old river bed perhaps, the deer retrieved from the snow and dirt and retied onto the place the wolf should have gone. It was unsafe to remain in the ditch, the scent of death already on him and his friend and the territory unknown. Looking for any sign of the Sun Alder simply tried to move south. Barreling through the forest with a simple hope of not repeating the mistake he had made but unknowingly making another.
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