Heron Lake Plateau Maps

She was three?? Goodness gracious. Finley paused for a moment to try to do the math and figure out how old she was, but she gave up pretty quickly. Not because she couldn't figure it out, but that she didn't like the results. The girl's story wasn't too much of a surprise, but it was a bit of a blow to her ego. Back in the day, Fin had been proud as hell to be the first Blackthorn to strike out on her own like her older sisters had when things had gotten too crowded for her liking. She had grabbed Colt by the tail and dragged him away to join her on their wild adventure, throwing a big middle finger back at the traditions of her family who were so stuck in their ways and so annoyingly mundane. It seemed though that every Blackthorn these days had decided to do the same thing, though. They all told the same story. And in the weirdest turn of events, Finley now had made a life just like that of her parents - long-term resident of the same pack, churning out more and more Blackthorns year after year...

Ugh. That's enough introspection for one day.

"Yeah, weird that you wound up here of all places," Fin commented, "But then again, so did I. So it's not exactly uncommong I guess..." She gave a light shrug, then decided to cut to the chase, "Well, I can't promise adventure here. If anything, you'll just get drama, irritation over super rambunctious yearlings, and bitterness over a bird that seems like it has a higher rank than you... But if you're looking for a place to stay, I keep my door open to any and all fellow Blackthorns."