With a heavy sigh, a smaller brown stag made his slow way through the forest near the Firebringer herd. He had a story itching in the back of his mind and he needed to get another's opinion on it. He knew deep in his heavy heart that he wasn't the best storytelller, but in Iris' mind he wasn't too bad either.
The smells of the trees was intoxicating. Shaking out the golden cloud markings on the scruff of his neck, Engill took a moment to prance in order to better wake himself. After night duty, he was exhausted. But sleep would not come in the day. The light snow was nippy, but not compleatly uncomfortable. He liked it.
