The winter had really done a number on the Valhallan camp, it seemed. Even though they weren't nearly the hardest hit out of any of the Clans on Delos, they still had to deal with fallen branches, leaves covering pathways, and a general smell of rotting that came from the constant buildup, melting, and absorption of snow, sleet, and rain. It really wasn't pretty. That's not to say their territory ever really was pretty, but it was much worse off than usual right now. And Zeppelin wanted to do something about it.
Presently, the High King could be found dragging a fallen tree branch out of the center of camp, which had been blocking the entrances to some of the vacant dens that also needed some cleaning up. Grunting under the weight of the bough, he finally managed to lug it to the outskirts of camp, where he figured it made a fairly nice border. It could protect the place a little, maybe trip up an intruder. As soon as that was done, he was on to the next one and the next one and the next one. He wanted this place to look halfway decent if they were going to be holding some ally events soon.
✧ \ STANDING AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD IS GIVING ME THE CHILLS \ TAGS