Cold.
Winter did not often come easily to the Dragonsclaw Mountains. A gusty wind whistled the chill night air through patches of trees that lined the slopes. The night sky was clear, and The Jackal shone high above, seemingly watching the land below.
A lone figure crested a rise and stopped, leaning slightly on the staff carried lightly in its right hand. A hand with skin as dark as the world around it. Hooded and cloaked, no details could be seen of the being save that it was tall, and slight. Was that a whisp of white that trailed out from beneath the hood?
The stars wandered slowly across the sky as, motionless, the traveler stood and seemed to watch the lights of Wehnimers Landing flicker in the distance. After a time it half-turned westward towards Sentoph and the constant storm that brewed near it’s peak.
Nodding once as if to itself, it drew in its cloak more closely and began to move again, down the hill and towards the sea and the frontier town.
