Kintla Flatlands like the widest river, like the brightest morn

Phantom Hollow

After speaking with Finley last night, the yearling had decided she needed some time outside of the caldera— to stretch her legs, to sate her wanderlust and hopefully dispel her growing desire to run again. She had decided to pursue trades that would make Peregrine happy, but she had little passion for them; except, perhaps, for healing. She was much more suited to outriding than gamekeeping, but at least she could use migrating prey as an excuse to leave the confines of the caldera every once in a while.

She had told @Fox and @Peregrine this morning that she would be tracking an herd, while simultaneously scouting for herbs that might be of use to minor sicknesses that were common in the changing seasons. Magpie had insisted she would go alone, looking her sister square in the eyes. It was purely a reconnaissance "mission", and she wouldn't be climbing cliffs or falling off them this time around. I'll be back in a few days, she told them with conviction. However they took it, the yearling was determined to go.

Besides, if they were ever to trust her again, they'd need to loosen their reins. They'd need to let her go and give her room to prove to them that she'd come back.

It was late afternoon when she arrived at the Whitefish River, where it forked in the Heartwood. Her sides were heaving, for she had sprinted— rejoicing in this small freedom, glad to use her muscles after her weeks of confined recovery. At the bank of the river, she drank its cool water until her belly seemed to swell with it, and then her green eyes lifted to investigate an interesting patch of forest. It appeared to deflect the sunlight, somehow; gloomy, moody and dark.

Wondering at the mystery of it, the yearling carefully began to cross the river where its width and depth were less dangerous.