For Castor. This isn't goooood.
The murkiness above Bleeding Souls threatened rain, possibly even sleet. Thunder rumbled ominously from over the sea, and Endymion’s amber fur stood on end. Every inch of Earth seemed alive, moving with the pulse of the monster hanging over them; trees undulated strangely in the biting wind, their red and yellow leaves falling and swirling about them in terror. “Shhh!” they called to one another, begging for silence, but they all kept up their clamor. The Shadows wolf was following the path between territories, along the river, listening to and watching the Earth prepare for the storm. His short gait was swift and somewhat eager, possessing the same condition as the things around him. When he was a child, Endymion would hide in the far reaches of the family den while thunder belowed from the sky and lightning illuminated the fitful scenery outside. The unreasonable fear transformed itself over time into fascination of cloudburst, lightning, and thunder.
The russet wolf trotted on, crossing the river at its shallowest point. He stopped abruptly when he reached solid, dry ground; he had accidentally wandered into Clouded Tears territory. The Souls land was still new and unfamiliar to him, it seemed. Despite the atmosphere, fog still hung low to the ground, unbothered by the perturbed gust. Sighing, Endymion turned to exit the premises, not wanting to be scolded for trespassing. Overhead, thunder grumbled, closer than it had been minutes before.
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