Beneath the tightly woven mass of vegetation crowning towering trees minimal the glimpses he caught of open sky, a mosaic of gentle oranges and pinks, edges tinged in fading purple. Bright had been it when covering had reduced the illumination to flickering specks among dense shade, even the pale blue obscured by wisp of cloud, time supposedly quickened without knowledge. Gentle the hum that graced lips pressed into a hard line, singular ear flicking as attention turned, other weighed down by bone carved adornment. Familiar it, a comfort as was the lines painted along shallow cheeks, adorned forehead and about eyes, smooth and sharp each, worn beneath travel.

His culture. His home, that left in wake that grew even as it faded. Accustomed was Khajhad to travel, the land traversed as migratory prey followed the unpredictable patterns seasons wrought against the land in search of sustained sources of nutrients and water. To the whims of weather were they subject, the prodding passage of those departing beasts the ones following behind, a natural cycle he had been raised within and grew comfort with.

Similar this, if roles felt odd, fit strangely against thoughts that bore a need for a framework he may understand . No labouring prey was he following alongside his tribe, blood his own he trailed as the lunar cycle since her departure concluded. He knew little of the delicate tug that called to wayward soul, pulled from them though never Cipactli, ever prying those eyes settled on those beneath savage protection. Reasoning his own for journey that saw him traverse aerial roots, the sodden soil mistrusted for his unfamiliarity with such terrain, peered at each trunk. Against dark bark carved lines, age apparent in how sap had dried at the edges, discarded from thought as another was located.

Momentum halting, smooth the transition, stance shifting until pale fur adorning stomach near grazed the earth. Heady once the rich scents rampant beneath canopy, indistinguishable each until time allowed him clarity, among the damp located a trail, faded but apparent the winding course it took. After did he follow, supposedly in full attention focused upon task at hand yet ears moved in slow swivel, guided by nose that flared with each deep breath, vision skirting low lying growth that clustered about. Stranger within lands forgein to him, expected anything and thus guise the intensity of his focus, a meagre scrap of a meal worthless if it lead only to harm and negated the good it may bring.

Off guard.

To allow oneself to be placed within a situation permitting such foolhardy, momentary hesitation enough to render life prematurely concluded. He bore no mind that may weave the complex threads of battle into neat order, understanding of beasts that acted as suitable sustenance all he deemed a necessity, and thus unawares was he caught. Of two minds one may not deem Khajhad, abandoned the rigorous inspection of forgein land, the strengthening trail of a forest dwelling creature beckoning him forth.

Fault his own, even as desire to shift it upon intrusive presence announced in trilling call, balls of paws accepting weight to permit preparation. Registration of the sound, the meaning behind, came only when she entered his vision, answering call unbidden, fading with a fragile smile taking hold. Familiar her presence, arising through shifting thought the days well past when children had they both deem, miniscule things of fluffed up coats. The image she cut unlike that, though it too held a place in memory, her departure met with only good humour, pleased for what her journey may bring her.

Faux grew his smile as her voice arose, shortened form of his name sweet on tongue he had not heard in over a lunar cycle. Bound to honour was he, even as his own views of Cipactli and the religion the crocodilian deity was central to acted small part in his life, expectation to act in accordance to prior teachings. Selfish at core his wandering, though if he sought Elsweyr or acting on a hope doubt may dim he may not say, with her before dumb his tongue on the matter.

"Our home is well," quiet the rasp he spoke within, weathered the once high pitch of youth yet still apparent an edge of such. Further explanation stalled as her touch was lended into, a brief contact he was accustomed to and acted upon with mere impulse, her departure and subsequent once over mimicked. "He missed her, he did not expect to find her." Lie burned his tongue even as he voiced it, thoughts disjointed as he pondered over this development, in particular her mention of the position this Tanglewood was within.

"She is fond of Tanglewood." No need to pose query of such, and thus forgone it for statement Khajhad may deem true simply by how she lingered, apparent how she lacked all but the tang of the swamp. Her talk of bad times ignited some interest, fleeting as it was, of no issue the predicament this place was currently within to one such as he, an outsider with a tentative connection only through Elsweyr.