Deepwood Weald if i cut my hair, hawaii will sink

Their time in the forest had been short lived but enough. They’d eaten regularly, West tended to Kitsch’s wounds, and by the time it all comes to an end, they are relatively on the good side of their health. Libeccio had been gone for several days, despite what little search West gave, and she hadn’t seen the others from the forest in the same amount of time. One morning, she nudges @Kitsch awake and without explanation, nudges her to move on.

Her plan to take the forest hadn’t panned out but they don’t leave empty handed. It hadn’t gotten far enough long to really impact her for the worst. Instead, with a quick meal from the last of the cache, they embark further north than she’s ever gone. The south still seems too far out of bounds and she doesn’t know what Kitsch does, though she doesn’t put up much of a fight, and by the time they’ve gotten themselves into the heart of a new forest, she isn’t sure which way is which.

West clenches her jaws and turns back to look at the girl following along. She doesn’t announce her uncertainty for their direction and instead continues on through the thick of the ferns.

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If there was one thing that Kitsch didn't like, it was change. The pearl was a creature of habit and she nurtured a great appreciation for knowing exactly what was going to happen next, and not because she maintained any sort of control, no — because she had seen it all play out before and knew what to expect. There was no sadness and no frustration; when nothing changed, there was very little possibility of sadness. In fact, the only time she ever felt wretched was after some sort of big life upset. Consistency was key, and she had found it here amongst the ghost wolves of neverwinter forest.

So when the girl was roused from her slumber and made to move on, she was. At first she protested, but West was the head of the operation and Kitsch was just — well, what exactly was she to West, after all? Why hadn’t she been ditched, the lamb who could do nothing [except offer some plaintive company and drain medicinal resources]? Kitsch often wondered what benefit the Madame received from her own charitability — and perhaps Kitsch should have questioned it more — but the girl felt much too fortunate to be too critical. It was the same reason that Kitsch did not pester West with questions about their destination, or about Libeccio’s whereabouts. If the woman wanted to talk, she would — but she wasn’t.

They hadn’t gotten very far when Kitsch felt a familiar sense of exhaustion creep into her bones. She was a waifish, lacelike thing without the stamina for travel, and her fine musculature had wasted during her convalesce. West easily outpaced her and Kitsch traveled behind, her aquamarine gaze trained on the ground just behind the woman’s hocks. Finally, Kitsch huffed and broke the silence with a listless ”Can we please rest?”

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Can we please rest?

West doesn’t slow down at first. She looks to the ground and how her paws moved for her. There isn’t time to rest, she knows, but the plea in the other’s voice makes her realize they won’t get very far if they don’t. At least not together. The woman releases a huff of breath as she slows to a stop and turns to face the girl. As if she waved a paw in exasperation, she hurriedly announces “yeah, yeah.”

They could be going in circles for all she knows as everything begins to look the same after a while. The best she can hope for is they’d been going in as much of a straight line as they can so they have to come out at some point. She can see the sun peeking through the sky above them, illuminating the areas below as the only indication that it’s still day time. She turns a little to make herself comfortable, lowering to the plush foliage below and settles in for a little while. When hunger hits, perhaps she’ll go find something, and she frowns at the thought.

Libeccio should be here.