The wetlands, protected by a timberland of towering sentinels was soft underfoot as Lachesis moves through it, eyes of Midas gold taking it in with puerile awe. It is absent of the craggy walls and treacherous paths of Tartarus Ravine. The triumvirate is so very far from home and though obstinate and loathe to admit it he misses his sisters dearly. The unholy trinity is broken while they are apart; but it is necessary Lachesis attempts to soothe himself with. Necessary. Like Hypno and Morphos before him he must venture away from Taratarus Ravine …never to return. It is Prometheus’ law. His sons, when they reach their sexual maturity are no longer welcome to the Ravine. They are not seen as continuers of the Moirari line: they are seen as competition. Young, vibrant and virile as they are. Prometheus is a obsessive, possessive beast and Lachesis was too afraid of him, of having the life crushed from his throat by yellowed, sharp fangs that have killed his own blood for less. He tucked tail and left his sisters behind to suffer and bear Prometheus’ children as Hypno and Morphos also had done. As Hecate had told it her eldest children, Hypno had tried to protect Medea and had ended up blinded and disfigured from his challenge of Prometheus.

Lachesis tries not to think of it, swallowing heavily against the bile that rises in his throat. He pauses at one of the Fen’s water sources, inspecting it with a draw of saliva. He is thirsty and weary from travel but intuition causes him to recoil from the water, hesitant. He sniffs it, unable to detect anything wrong but as he bows his head to take another drink, insistent to sate it he recoils again, salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls. Something tells him to keep moving. That he will sate his thirst but not here. But, oh! He is so thirsty and the water looks inviting. He visibly deliberates staring at his rippling reflection in the surface, distorted as it is and recoils because he swears the man that stares back at him is Prometheus young and handsome, free of the silver that streaks his fur with age and the horrendous scars of war that mar his face and muzzle.

He loathes his reflection with a sudden violence and swell of heat in his chest; when Lachesis recoils this time taking steps back from the water’s surface his thirst suddenly not as important as it was mere seconds ago.

Once a part of a family, famine had brought the young damsel to wander for what seemed like an eternity for food. Losing her path, and upon returning, there was no sign of home - not that she expected to be welcomed back after being gone for so long. Once protruding bone from a famine struck living corpse, the young snow pelted woman was filled. Slim but healthy, she had found mentors in her travels to teach how to fend for herself better than she did before. Age had done the young woman well, still with a youthful visage, a bounce in her step, she was simply wiser, and stronger, than she was before.

Despite the loss feeling of continuing a life of a loner, the snowy princess with no kingdom pranced in the spring covered groves. Lush vegetation covered the ground in a soft carpet, fed by the bounty of spring's melting snow and many rainfalls. Spring was the season of re-birth, where beautiful blooms decorated the plains - but something sinister plagued the beauty of these lands, and it was something Reiko had been keeping her eyes on for a few days now. 

She traveled far to quench her thirst, but would always return to the water's edge, watching and testing. There was a reason why animals who drank from the water's edge would fall, one after another, they all grew sick, many of which passed away. What was the secret of those who managed to walk away relatively unscathed? Her trot slowed as she neared the water once more, eyes scanning the water line for life when a sudden movement had caught her glance. Across the river was another, his muzzle wet and her heart grew heavy before speaking.