The Floodlands Tickle your cheek and take your throne, pump your veins with gushing gold.

Often, her sweeps of the border led her into neighboring territories.  The springtime rains had supplied the Floodlands with an ample amount of water.  The afternoon had come and gone and left a pastel @Evening in its wake, the sun low and gravid as it cupped the horizon line.  Sunlight limned the placid water's edge.  Dragonflies occupied the heavy, humid air like stars and the birds began to settle.

She cupped the edge of the pool and bent to clean the cut on her lip in the freshwaters.  It was healing well and likely wouldn't scar, but she still didn't want to risk an infection of any kind.