Mooi bos
#1
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434 SSWM
For Gotham, and I apologize if he can't leave the packlands D: I'll change it then.



The thickly growing vegetation, tall spruces still thick with their evergreen needles and bare ceders looking frozen in the cold. The wind blew through these, whistling a chilly tune to the chance listeners. The forest was cold, to be sure, but it was not as bad as open land. Thankfully the wind was hard to feel due to the proximity of the trees. They seemed so tightly packed, as though someone had planted rows of trees, then came and randomly dropped young seedlings in random patterns between the rows. Sometimes if one did not care to go around massive amounts of trees, it was possible to squeeze through a couple in a sort of zigzag manner.


Strelein stuck his head into one of these clusters, seeing a small hole at the base of one the trees. Angling his head, he saw a stash of nuts hiding in the shadows. He reached in and pulled one out and looked at it before he threw it back in the hole and retracted his head. Strel looked up, ears brushing bark gently. The trees were tall, much like back home in Michigan. It smelled quite nice too. The ocean barely seemed to have an effect here for the trees had allowed for a more forested scent on the air. Lungs full of the piney scent, the redhead let the carbon dioxide out with a cloud of moisture hovering before his nostrils briefly.



He took a few steps towards the sound of weak bubbling water. A stream, mostly frozen over, still managed to trickle in the center. It was weak and it would freeze completely soon. Animals that did not hibernate would visit this small flowing brook to take drinks. Perhaps larger herbavores would come for water and Strel could bring it down. Somehow. The food and the hide was so valuable to him, anything to experiment with. He had yet to make his own leather to use in sewing. It would be durable and hardy and that was exactly what he felt members of his pack would need and want. Maybe something for the workers in the pack. Perhaps a thick apron to keep hot things from touching vital regions.


But he was grasping at straws; most big animals had left the area or it was highly likely. The redhead did not knew the migration patterns of the land yet. He tried to find food wherever he could so he would not starve later. Sighing, he cupped his hands together to put water to his lips for a cool drink. It was refreshing and clean. Quite nice.
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