quite eradicated
He's at the furthest western border, between Sal Palus and Hallow's Ruins. Ibsen and his new horse are present.
She was gone.
He stood at the western border, a sky of charcoal gray and heather purple twisting above his head. Cold wind blew from his back, spreading the scent of smoke, cloves, and his own musky stench across the wasteland beyond Inferni’s border. Talitha was gone and he had been powerless to stop her, even after all this. After what she had promised. After what he had done for her.
While his face was carefully locked in the same blank expression he had seen on hawks and eagles, his body betrayed his inner turmoil. While his back was rigid, his shoulders were tense, hands half-curled at his sides. He had smoked on his way here, and he would smoke before he left—but for now, they were empty. Another blast of wind tore his hair across his face, causing him to shut his eyes against the assault by blonde-white strands. Behind him, the mare snorted uneasily. While he was grateful for her docile nature, she had not yet settled into the clan’s territory.
However, he needed a horse that would serve him until Viggo completely healed. While the stallion was comfortable on the grassy areas near the barn, Enkiel had warned the Aquila about being cautious. So he was; paranoia had made him into a man who risked very little. Paranoia too, had begun this new idea he now held onto. Many had left now, and what he had left were not what he had always imagined Inferni to be.
Above him, the clouds continued to roll. A black speck grew and circled down, landing awkwardly against the sharp wind onto the Aquila’s shoulder. A single shake of the head was all it took for his suspicions to be confirmed. The big raven (far bigger than any Ezekiel had seen) for once said nothing, mercifully.
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