[Please note Coris is wearing nothing but his leather horn guard at this moment!]

The red dust stirs like an old an ancient thing, loath to rise and quick to fall. It snakes around each hoofstep the stallion takes, the ground unusually dry in this time of year. The Dragon's Throat is always parched.

His steps are irregular and slow, suggesting an age that is dishonest to his birthdate. It is pride and honor that make him limp so, and the great festering wound of a bear attack to his left haunch. It would seem the cold of frostfall had helped keep the fever at bay and slowed the progression of the infection. Now however, the sun had lifted and the ground had thawed. On one goof Coris was thankful for the abundance of food, a lack of which had sent his muscles to waste and his gut to pinch while he holed himself away in the snows. With the arrival of birdsong also came the hope of herbs and medicinal flora, but the trip to the Deep Woods days before (it felt like months) hadn't given the tanner anything useful. More like than not he forgot what he was even supposed to be looking for. He'd have more luck eating something deadly than beneficial; that fear kept his muzzle at length from the strange and bizarre greenery.

He'd thought better of his talents though, hence his pride being a partial cause of this, so when given the option of respite by the black mare of the woods he'd refused. Not one to enjoy being in debt Coris felt himself above the assistance of another.

A pity he hadn't listened to his aches and pains more. He can do nothing but hear them now. The fever in his blood nearly sends it to boil under this afternoon sun and the heat from his festering gash is liable to scorch the earth should he pause long enough.

He will die in this blistering wasteland. Coris knows this with a grim certainty. No longer able to care about anything else, the skinner collapses. The red dirt swirls around him and settles like a fine crimson layer.

Above, the falcon screams, calling for anyone who may still be around to listen in this wasteland.

[Coris would appreciate healing services and acceptance into the Throat <3 in return he'd like to become your Forger and make you fancy things.]