The sun had long since fallen below the horizon, making way for the moon to grace the skies. As such it was a touch hard to distinguish between things. At least it was hard for those who didn't have night vision or were use to such dark places. As well there was a light breeze that seemed incessant, it continued to brush along the ground and run through the trees bringing with it the smell of rain; though the storm itself was still far off yet. One might find such a night dreary or foreboding, at least a normal person might. However for Arcane, who no longer remembered what it was like to be 'normal', it was a perfectly acceptable night.

No, it was not the weather that caused distress for the zombie. Rather it was how far he had at some point strayed from his graveyard. It was a tiny place, not well known, but it held a mass meaning to him. For that was where his late lord slept eternally, and for Arcane to be away from him even for a night was a travesty. He had to beyond all else protect his lord. Yet here he was... undeniably lost. You see, being a zombie, his eyesight had long since deteriorated to slightly below minimum and he had always been slightly nearsighted in life and it had simply amplified in death. As well his sense of smell had weakened with death, about the only plus he could find in death was that he didn't have the need to eat. It was not required of him, for his un-life to continue. Most other things about his life after death he didn't really enjoy.

Arcane sat, leaning against a tree, his nose to the air trying to locate where he was and in which direction he would find his graveyard. Sadly his nose picked up very little that gave him any idea as to where he was. He just had to accept the fact that... he very well might be lost until morning and as such would have to leave his little lord alone for a night.