hunters are circling ;; psl

[flyingone]

[It's evening when Altaïr returns. The daytime temperatures of Zodion are far from frigid, even in the winter, but 20 degrees is still twenty degrees and Altaïr is disoriented by the sudden change. It's the smell that finally helps him place himself. It's hot and dusty in the summer months, despite the cooler mountain temperatures, and the smell of hay was faint but still present even in the gardens behind the fortress. After the smell familiar noises register -- the fountain, the wind, the distant sound of the lake and river at the foot of the cliff.]

[It all only takes a few second, but its a long few seconds. Altair finally stirs from where he stands, turning in a slow, cautious circle on the terrace above the fountain. He is home, he knows that already, but even so...]

[But even so, there is something different about it all.]