It had been weeks since Garsot first entered the forest, the aromas of fresh vegetation, wildlife, and river streams filling his nose remind him of his home. Years have passed since that awful event but the pains still burn on the front of his mind. He had hoped that a trek through the forest would afford him some time to get the thoughts off his mind and ease him a bit, this was not the case. He had spent most of his time in this forest in tears over the memories that haunted him wishing that one day he will wake up and it all had been some terrible nightmare. Walking down to one of the river banks he bends down to drink as he catches his reflection in the water, his dead grey eyes behind the wooden mask staring back at him almost as if ashamedly,<span style="font-style: italic">"If you would have stayed with them, you might have been able to save them. You put your trust where it should not have gone and for that everything you know was lost."</span><br/><br/>"Shut up," he screams at nothing as he smacks the water with his hand, angrily throwing himself to the ground...these thoughts have been plaguing his mind since the tragedy.<br/><br/>"Do not give into such thoughts, Garsot..." A deep soothing voice resonates from the mask into his mind, the voice of the sacred tree,"...you must not allow yourself to be tempted into the trickery of the immortals."<br/><br/>Getting off the ground he straightens himself out and regains his composure. He drinks again from the water and takes his gourd out from the pack on his back to fill it up with water which he mixes in a couple of dried out berries from his homeland, mixing with the water to create a simple endurance potion in case of emergencies. He fills up a second gourd with water only and puts both back into his pack before opting to travel via tree tops. The sensation of flying from tree branch to tree branch again has made him a bit more cheerful as he has not been able to do this for a long time. The feel of moss and tree bark rubbing against his bare feet and hands, the leaves stroking his body, the wind pushing through the the fur. He felt like he could do this forever.<br/><br/>Though he is lost in the sensation of being in the trees, the sounds of commotion catch his attention stopping him abruptly. He gazes through the trees to see what looks like a scuffle between a few creatures, none of which he is familiar with, save for the small dragon looking creature that reminds him of some of the followers of Sehrt, the Dragon God that sent his minions to take the knowledge from the sacred tree, though his ancestors were able to thwart their advances. Not knowing the circumstances of the conflict, Garsot decides it would be wise to not interfere but just spectate for the moment.