[/html]Life had changed. The difference was drastic in ways and then in others Oak was finding it all to be just the same. He traveled more, but still knew a place to return to. He patrolled the orchards, but did not mark borders… He returned to his mother, but not to the Manor. Life had changed, but Oak found it had not devastated him.
He wandered through the streets of Halifax outward scattered towns, wondering why he had never come here before. Nature had taken over, he figured it have been many many years since the walls and the streets were free of green, but there were still plenty of places to examine. And supplies to pillage.
Dark finger ran themselves through similar locks, cut short as he liked while it’s partner sat on the flat side of the single bladed axe belted to his waist. Tore bay gaze stretched out through the roads, over houses and he randomly chose which corner he would take next. Keen senses told him that wolves lingered near by, but the scents were washed by rain and swept by winds. A tracker would call them dead, leading nowhere but settled in a single central location.
Intrigued the loner moved quickly along with the hopes of going unnoticed and spotted something unusual. A greenhouse, one his mother would have fawned over, stood in what would have been a sort of garden or yard for the house. Oak approached it with caution, careful not to alert any that may still reside in the building.
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