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Runa is far from Valkyrja Loch and further still from Coatl’s Rise. She has travelled far and she feels that enough distance has been placed, is filled with the thinly veiled hope that she might be able to let her weary paws rest and …stay awhile. She draws in a deep breath of the spring air, the temperature around her warmer than it had been. She does not know where she is only that she thinks her threat has been taken as seriously as she had meant it as it had left her lips for she’d seen no sign of pursuers and she had been keeping a keen eye. She moves through the massive, ancient trees that stand vigil in the forest with relative ease, the sunlight that filters down through their thick canopies above occasionally breeching through in a break in the leaves and touches upon her coat the color of spilled ink. The sylph draws in another deep breath and lets it out in a soft, relieved sigh. She is looking forward to resting and setting her sights on exploring as opposed to marching with what has felt to her like fleeing; but she does not regret her decision. She is not someone’s princess, she is not a peace treaty to be used to convenience. As it is, she finds that it is surprising that the Amazons would trade her — a female — as willingly as they had but Asger had never been overly forthcoming about the conditions of her arrival as Valkyrja Loch beneath his care. For now, Runa tucks it from her thoughts. It is useless to mull it over when, now, she suspects she might never have the answers for those questions.
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