Tormented Tarns can they see me when they close their eyes

@Iqniq

There had been good reason not to visit the tarns. If not for the damned little spider, dawdling on the winds and wrapping up into the inky wolf's ear set, perhaps a den of warmth would have awaited weary bones. Already scrawny appearance was filling, steady meals building in the cavernous shadows beneath eye sockets. Though the inky wolf had not been horribly unhealthy upon running into the beta, the road-weary status still showed on features. Appendages, though still lanky, had more muscle coiled beneath silky fur (an aspect that had never changed despite eating habits. Genetics!). Eyes once slightly hollow were now bright and bold. Many hours of traversing the mountain had awakened a fire inside the newly appointed Delta. A fire that was not easily quenched, even after tearing down an enemy and spending several tedious nights away from the Spire.

Hocks sank into a plethora of muck, attention drifting over the new webs that were beginning within the cranky, gnarled trees of the location. Something had, apparently, ripped the Tarns in two, striking a deep gash into the surface and leaving torn up mire in its wake. Some time had passed since then, it seemed, and the territory was still rebuilding beneath the shadow of the mountain. 

Amongst the muck a scent had tickled the spider deeper into the wilds. Something was aiming to live a little too close to their home.