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Ouroboros Spine viii. cold smoke seeping - Printable Version

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viii. cold smoke seeping - Lótë - April 11, 2021

With the morn, which dawned grey and soon gave way to spotty clouds and the occasional warm flush of the sun's rays breaking through the cover, the daughter of Elenwë would slip from the confines of her den and trot into the depths of the blackpine. As her muscles warmed, she lengthened into an easy lope -- spiraling down along the footpaths of the Spine, slowing with care at the edges of the cliffs. Into the lowlands of Moonglow's claim would her fleet steps lead, the birdcaller wondering silently at the possibility of at last bumping into one of the Glen survivors. The ecologist couldn't quite be sure but they had been here so long that the mouse wondered why they didn't just merge with their once-sisters of the 'spear -- rather than retain this chasm of distance between their villages. Their numbers would only bolster each other, keeping both clans afloat -- in time, their people would become one.

It was not Aiwë's place to ask so she did not. 

Thus far, she had come across none as she pattered along the stands of timber encircling the lake at the hart of the Spine, muzzle low and lips parted as she breathed in the scents of the forest. Churned mud, a collage of cloven prints along the banks, overlapping perfumes of elk -- the herd that called Ouroboros Spine home had been here when the first beams of golden light broke over the hidden horizon beyond their walls. Perhaps to quench a mutual morning thirst. The dove stopped long enough to drink her fill and then took off again, trailing the herd deeper into the woods.

She found them along a large clearing of a meadow in the northern reaches, curling herself comfortably upon the ground downwind of the grazers to watch from her vantage point amongst the thinning undergrowth along the treeline.