[Hemlock]

HEMLOCK
AIN'T NO MERCY, IN MY SMILIN' - ONLY FANGS AND SWEET BEGUILIN'

It was quickly becoming a frigid night as the sun crept lower and lower. The young hellion picked his way down the mountain, the forest around him growing thicker and more varied as he went. Strong legs and wide paws having little difficult with the drifts of snow. It was fresh and still soft enough to wade through without much difficult. Hemlock nearly blended into the snowy landscape in his paler winter coat - the dark spikes that adorned his elbows and his antlers gave him away though. Hemlock’s breath gushed past his protruding tusks in white curls of mist.

This hadn’t been so bad, not yet anyway.

It had been a couple days since he’d been chased down the mountain. He was still sore, in more ways than the literal. He wasn’t welcome back, and he had no real heading so Hemlock’s last few days had been simple, objectiveless wandering. He was finding he actually enjoyed it. He’d never come this far before - he had a keen interest in the world around him. He supposed he'd embrace his newfound place as a pariah as a chance to explore.

His floppy ears lifted slightly as he trudged through the snow. He could hear... something, crunching about in the snow. Hemlock did not think it sounded so large as to be much of a threat. So no need to be rude.

“Good evenin’...” He called in a gruff but friendly drawl, wondering idly if they’d answer him or scamper away. He'd had that happen before. People could be jumpy.