![[Image: Viv_Conor.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_Conor.gif)
The anomaly intrigued him, the scent of various wolves and other creatures drawing him closer than was perhaps safe. Outside of Ichorwood's confines, he lingered at the border, craning his head in an attempt to gain a better vantage point of what lay further inside the forest. Curiosity burned within him as he caught flashes of red clinging to the branches overhead - how strange it was that red-leafed trees would exist within the crypt of winter. They defied the seasons, heralding the crimson growth of autumn rather than the typical green of spring.
How delightful!
Conor canted his head back to admire the budding red leaves, wondering if this pocket of Mythris was owed to some type of magic. The only thing that kept him from delving into the claimed territory was the present borders - not even he, who had once been man, could deny what the marked perimeter meant. This land belonged to others, and he would likely find himself in a dangerous situation if he were to traipse in unannounced and he was no fighter by any means despite his height.
Instead, he settled the antlers he carried with him at his paws and loosed a short howl to request audience with the homestead's owner - perhaps the ones who owned this land would indulge a curious mind.
![[Image: ConorFB1.png]](http://magatia.net/x/ConorFB1.png)




