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ames de le mort. can it be set for the 16th?

The snow didn't stick here. The earth was warmer somehow, and the air thick, so the flakes didn't last long. It was a light snow, anyway; it really didn't matter.
Endymion didn't really know why he was there, on the very outskirts of Bleeding Souls. Perhaps it was because he was thinking. He had done so for past week. He had been wrapped up in thought for days, staring blankly into the gray distance or else absently patroling the borders of Jaded Shadows. He rarely spoke, except to report on the inactivity of the territory to the other Wahrers. It could easily be said that he was in a rut, and he figured it was most-likely winter's fault.
The red wolf sat on a rather large tree, fallen and dead, carving into the dry bark. It was an aimless design, swirling and twisting about itself, growing in size as the minutes passed. He was thinking, of course, as he carved. His thoughts traveled from Awenasa to his journey with Alarice, and the design grew. Where had she gone? He didn't have an answer, so he continued to carve and think. He thought about first arriving at Jaded Shadows, and meeting his mother again. The design swirled beautifully and deeply, expanding, as he remembered meeting his new siblings for the first time. As he thought of meeting Sedition, and as the thoughts turned to Salvaged, he carved jagged and shallow lines. After a moment he paused, looking away from the design. How very complicated everything was.
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