[center][h2][color=02b816]Snowing Timber[/color][/h2][/center]

Timber reached up against the bark of a towering oak, placing a single claw underneath its edge and prying it off with a simple flick of the wrist. He lifted the bark up to his lips, almost absent-mindedly placing it into his mouth. He chewed into the bark softly, his ears soaking in the sound of the rustling of the trees. Despite being exactly where he belonged, the anxiety that weighed down Timber's chest ate at him. Ten years had come and gone, and he was finally returning back to where everything had changed. And despite many seasons, the forests near where Ardenfield once stood remained as familiar as home could. Especially when Timber's real home was gone, certainly retaken by this very forest. The rhythm of chewing into the bark helped to calm the nerves, sharp teeth pressing past the hard exterior and into the soft wood underneath. The fresh taste of bark was bitter and unappetizing to even a reclusive traveler like Timber, but not every ritual was meant to be soothing. He was taught when he was young that oaks stood for strength and endurance, stalwart icons of nature's ability to persevere. And in this moment, Timber could use that strength. 

He took a moment as he caught first sight of the Lying Wolverine to take a knee and organize his pack. He removed the external belt that stored his shortswords and carefully stuffed them into the pack. He placed a covering over the top of his quiver to hide his arrows and tightened the ropes holding his gear together. As he checked his supplies one last time and made sure that everything was padded appropriately to eliminate any rattling, Timber's eyes rested upon his longbow. The only possession he had left of his family, from the old days. He shook his head, lifting up a single claw to the bow's  interior upper limb. He etched in one more hash mark to fill out the nine other markings that signified the 10 years since Ardenfield was destroyed. Once satisfied with his marking, Timber readjusted the hunting knife strapped to his leg to make sure it was sturdy before hoisting the pack onto his back once again. He sported a simple green tunic and matching pants littered with patches to cover holes that came from years climbing through forest brush. Draped over his shoulders, though, was a new brown cloak that stood in contrast to Timber's own white fur.

The ranger pushed through the forest's brush and strode up to the front doors of the small tavern, taking one last deep breath. He spat the bark out of his mouth before pulling open the front door and taking a step in. Timber's emerald eyes quickly settled on two individuals: a well-dressed half-tabaxi and a human woman in full armor. It took a moment for the smuggler to recognize his two childhood friends after years apart, but here they were in the flesh. A decade of misery and envy slipped for this moment as Timber quickly stepped towards his old friends with a toothy smile. [color=02b816]"You... you both came. I... time seems to have treated you both well."[/color]