Qeya River it's a narrow neck of land

Set for the 13th. For @Freyja!

It was hard to leave her sister-- it felt traitorous to go from Donnelaith-- but as time passed the feeling grew easier to bear. A burden was lifted from her shoulders, weighted brick by weighted brick. She had lost so much in these formative years, and her sense of Self had been the most difficult of all. Emaleth had been self-assured where Deirdre had been cautious for so much of their youth and with mother's disappearance, the roles had begun to reverse-- setting in stone with father's passing. It was all wrong in the dark female's mind, and though she loved her sister dearly, she knew she would never regain herself as the white queen's shadow.

It was hard to leave her sister, but it was time to go.

She traveled until her bones were weary and until the hunger in her belly told her she was close to fading. Her course shifted northward, toward the sound of a sluggish river, where she tenuously moved to stand upon the ice at its edges. Winter had not yet frozen the river, and she was uncertain if it would-- after all, the dark witch had never seen snow or ice before this year.

Emaleth bowed her head to drink. A moment later, her muscles locked in terror as a foreboding crack ruptured the air.

Terribly sorry for the wait, love. <3

Though she couldn’t quite put a paw on it, something had driven Freyja away from the den she was sharing with Seff, past the geyser fields, and out of the territory. Perhaps it had been the upset she felt upon her parents sudden departure, or perhaps it was the emptiness that had ensued within her chest when they had taken off. She had still yet to disclose to them that she was leaving Sleeping Dragon, nor had she honestly planned on disclosing such plans, but, still, she felt herself terribly saddened that they had left before she had.

Soon enough her paws had drawn her to the shores of the Qeya River. Drawing herself before the water, the child bent over and drank. She did not thirst, nor did she really feel much in that moment. Instead, she just did it as something the distract her in that moment for all that had happened and for all that was to be.

When she had gotten well over her fill, she raised her head and observed the area around her. A dark figure soon came into sight and soon Freyja’s ears cupped forward and her eyes settled on the other. Chuffing lightly in the other’s direction, she looked expectantly at the other, curious if this wolf would give her the time of day or not.

All fine, sunshine!

Between the foreboding crack and the chuff of greeting, Emaleth was fully startled— and unused to such weather or the ice, found herself scrambling against the slick surface to keep her footing. It would have served her better to remain relaxed, but going rigid gave the almost-yearling a false sense of security. Stiff-legged, she struggled to return to her full stature, and instead found herself flat on her stomach with her limbs splayed everywhere. She lifted her head to look hopelessly toward the other wolf, only to whine again in fear as another groaning creak emerged from the river's frozen surface.

Dancer among wolves, indeed.

<3!

The other’s startelement caught Freyja’s attention easily and the silver-haired woman found herself staring as the other founded to stand. Soon enough, the ebony strangler was sprawled upon the slick surface and said surface groaned in turn to the wolf’s actions. Freyja head tilted to this noise, her eyes falling to the frozen river momentarily before returning her attention to the other wolf.

“Did you hear that noise?” she called with apparently concern. Freyja couldn’t quite pinpoint just what it was, but, regardless to that, it did not sound good to the Fleima.

Cautiously, as if the ground might move from underneath her at any moment, Emaleth once more collected herself to her feet. She was miserable, through and through— it seemed to the yearling that famine had struck the earth once more, that locusts had come to steal all that was green from her. She knew some things of winter, for it had been part of her education to know the four seasons, but listening to stories was entirely different from experiencing it herself.

Unwilling to stay on the ice any longer, the dark witch didn't answer and instead hazarded a leap to the shore— her hind legs, of course, had no purchase on the slippery surface. It was not the most elegant of movements, but she made her target in a large pouf of snow just as the ice she had been standing upon broke away to be carried downriver by the sluggish, unfrozen center of the waterway. It made a rending noise behind her, and the she-wolf's mismatched gaze moved to determine the other's wellbeing before tending to her own prone position.

It all happened in what to seemed to be a blink of an eye. As if the stranger had some intuition about what was about to occur, she lept just in time as the ice beneath her paws gave way. Awestruck by it all, Freyja watched in silence as the other landed. Her attention diverted momentarily as a groan sounded from the river, her head tilting once more at the foreign noise.

But, as easily as her attention had shifted to the river, she found her chestnut-colored gaze finding the stranger once more. “That was amazing,” she offered, her voice breathless as she looked to the other’s mismatched gaze. She found herself staring at the other on account of her unique gaze and frankly the silver-haired woman found it to be quite beautiful. Though, she did not speak on this. Instead, she simply looked on.

"Was it?" Emaleth breathed, her heart thunderous in her chest. It had been freak chance, or perhaps the power in her hind legs, that had caused the ice to break just as she left it. She shuddered as she lifted herself to her feet to stand on the safety of land-locked snow, imagining what could have occurred. A cold dip in the river and stuck beneath inches of ice— drowning there like Ophelia, or perhaps not quite so peaceful. She swallowed, willing the adrenaline rush to pass, and allowed herself to look the other over.

The gray youth was perhaps half her own age, which explained her obliviousness to the danger of the situation— a danger that Emaleth was barely aware of, herself. Her form bore the athleticism of the very young, though the dark witch predicted it would become more defined, more feminine as the child aged.

"I'm Emaleth Claudette Mayfair," she told the other, perhaps a bit airily. Her full heritage was likely unnecessary, but the yearling enjoyed the formality of it— she was experimenting with a self-importance that simply had not existed within Donnelaith. "Daughter of Taltos, First Druid of the Sentinels." Her father's title, too, made her feel like she was on some grand adventure that was all her own.

The formality of the other’s name and lineage stirred something within the silver-coated woman and as the other felt, she could feel her own posture rising. Her tail swayed and her head fleeted to dip gently in turn of the other’s introduction before she rose once more to introduce herself. “I am Freyja Loðbrók-- first born of Drageda,” she gently beckoned to the mountainside that stood proudly behind her before turning her attention to the ebony-cloaked stranger. Normally she would go about expressing her interests in her rise to leadership, but, such ambitions had been set aside by the beckoning of the wilds. She no longer wished to merely settle-- she wished to explore, learn, and perhaps find a place that she could call her own.

Giving the stranger a once-over, Freyja tilted her head slightly. “Where are the Sentinels that you speak of?” she asked, her brows rising to the occasion as her curiosity overtook their exchange.

Making assumptions, hi.

She thought she had heard that word before— Drageda— but it might have simply been the fact that it sounded so similar to the word 'dragon'. Emaleth could see a mountain far beyond them, billowing dark smoke into the atmosphere; perhaps that what was caused the hint of bitterness in the air. Was that the dragon, and was it truly sleeping? Thuringwethil had mentioned that she lived out this way, on a mountain— the dark child wondered if it were that place.

But more interesting than that was Freyja and this meeting of two heiresses— Emaleth focused her attentions on the younger female and offered an uncharacteristic grin. "Well met, Freyja of Drageda. The Sentinels watch over the coast, southwest of here. It is a long journey."

Her eyebrows rose curiously to the information Emalaeth disclosed as a heightened sense of curiosity ensued. Before she could even consider an answer, she spoke. “What brings you over here?” So close to the mountain, no less. Despite the guard she felt building, Freyja did her best to remain neutral as she attempted to give the other a moment to speak.

"I met a she-wolf from Drageda, and she said it lay somewhere in this area," she explained, remembering suddenly that it was the name that Thuringwethil had spoken, "I've never been far from the ocean, so I wanted to see it." Emaleth could understand the younger female's caution, sensing the hint of a wall going up in the other and knowing the deep desire to protect one's home and its secrets. After a pause, she added, "I'm between homes at the moment."

Her curiosity on the matter spiked at the woman’s mention of a she-wolf from Drageda. Nodding at the last remark, Freyja tilted her head. “Who did you speak to?” She couldn’t have imagined any wolf from the pack making it that far from their territory, but, since she had been so busy she had not paid much mind to the whereabouts of her packmembers.

"Thuringwethil," the yearling responded slowly, wanting to make sure she had gotten the unique name correct. She wasn't entirely sure of the woman's position in the pack but assumed it was one of more prestige from the way she carried herself and her manner. "I met her on a cliffside to the west." Emaleth fell silent, then, waiting for what she was sure would be another question— the tone of the conversation had shifted, but she assumed it was that the younger female was exercising her skills as a guardian. Emaleth had done as much upon the borders of Donnelaith.

When she was met with more cold questioning, Emaleth dismissed herself, uninterested in the posturing of a child much younger than herself.