A steep, ridged peak with sloping tails to the north and south, peppered with persistent evergreens and kissed by frost for most of the year. A thin trickle of melt dribbles down the eastern face, gathering speed and volume as it disappears into the tall, thick forests reaching up from the foothills. There are few paths to the top, none of them safe. A forest fire on the north side of the mountain left the forest there scorched, but the lost trees are rapidly being replaced by new pines.

Qeya River: Always frigid and cold, this river is not the friendliest for swimming. If hypothermia doesn’t set in, it’s very easy to become trapped beneath one of the frozen blocks of ice floating down the stream. Unfortunately, this is one of the few sources of water scattered about the north, making this river a dangerous, yet popular location for anyone looking to quench their thirst. Careful! The rocks are slippery and there’s no telling whether that patch of snow is over land or thin ice.

Redtail Rise: Jutting out of the taiga is very small, isolated little chain of mountains whose tops form a broad ridge. Near the foothills, the untamed slopes are challenging and steep, with worn paths being the safest way up, but gradually the terrain flattens into a gentle incline. The majority of the slope was once covered in a mixture of grass and deciduous forest, and a tumultuous stream fed from the mountain's interior dissected the eastern face into north and south halves, but now the ridge is a charred mess with only burnt stumps and a carpet of ash left to tell of its former glory. The red-tailed hawks that once frequented the ridge have long since departed.