He had been traveling for approximately three tendays. Well, exactly three tendays, he always had a talent for timekeeping and these woods were a clock to him. Over the past couple of days, his stride had changed from a relaxed pilgrimage to a commanded pace. He had a swelling feeling within his chest that something unknown and foreign was happening, something consequential. He had to make sure his forest was doing well at least, he had to make sure it was not being affected. He set up camp for that evening in an overgrown thicket, his bedroll balanced on a low branch. He gestured to the wood he’d arranged and released some of his magics, instantly the wood caught flame, the heat’s aura warmed him through slowly. He prepared a small rabbit he caught earlier and placed it over the fire to roast. He was expecting more but the forest was unusually quiet that day. His stomach growled in response. It had been a long day. Whilst his meal was cooking he decided to walk around and try to find some fresh water, he could detect some just on the periphery of his hearing, westerly of here. He reached the edge of the riverbank shortly. He bent down and brought the liquid up to his lips. Relief flowed through him as he was reminded he hadn’t stopped for a drink in nearly two days. He splashed some of the water to his face and proceeded to fill his waterskin. He made his way back to camp and settled down for his meal. He stared at the sky that night and it was quiet.