Nostalgia hit Gabriel like a punch to the gut. The willows with broken tree branches grew close together, friends leaning against one another, as if to protect their secrets from strangers. The air carried with it the hint of smoke, the remnant of fires that had long since burned down everything familiar to him once. Peculiar signs of spring blossomed throughout the underbrush, vivid greens and yellows, off-putting in the eerie domain of the Badlands. A breeze played in the air, rustling the long hanging boughs, a cacophony of noise in this quiet, cryptic wood. The noises became deafening; Gabriel's demons demanded an answer.