Frostfire Ridge mine is a watery pit

Edit: you get my 200th post! :D

The Ridge was coming along, albeit not exactly in the way that Týrr had initially imagined it would. He had thought that more wanderers from the Glacier would seek him out, or that he would be able to even find them but it seemed with the Kingdom's fall they had scattered to the four winds. His efforts to find Tuwawi and her daughter, Maera were in vain and eventually the earthen colored male had to make the call: give up or leave the Teekon Wilds in search of the two fiery colored Sevijarns; his answer would have been simple would he have not sown the seeds and set things into motion with Frostfire Ridge but he had and he had responsibilities to the fledgling pack — responsibilities that he hoped to soon see to fruition as it would become a pack instead of the idea of one. More Amazon women had found him and pledged themselves to his cause, all refusing to leave him despite that he had given them the option. They all seemed to mirror Manauia's thoughts on it: they were staying so long as he was staying and he had no intentions of leaving the Teekon Wilds, even if some of his reason were more selfish than the others. Sure, he had responsibilities but there was always the hope that the missing Glacier wolves might find him. Duskfire Glacier had been a very pivotal event in his life, remarkable and he could not abandon it even though barely anything remained; and he could not explain this to the Amazon's. He tried and each time he failed as they scoffed at the notion. His memories of Tezcacoatl were slow coming, though he remembered small things regularly without knowing how or why but nothing severe and life altering. He might never remember and because he could not mourn for a life he didn't remember it didn't particularly bother him (not that he would ever tell them that).

A familiar scent lingered upon the soft summer breeze as it blew, pleasant despite the overcast of the day, that caused his heart to stutter a beat as he mentally processed it's familiarity and placed a face to it. It was different, of course, without the scents of Duskfire clinging to it but it was still hers. Tuwawi. It was her's but at the same time he rejected the notion even as his large paws carried him towards where her scent intercepted the scent of the Amazon women mixed strongly with his own. Týrr hadn't known what had called her away from them, and did not question it even as he spent weeks trying to find her and her daughter, and had eventually settled upon the assumption that she had made up with Njal and that they were happy...elsewhere. It wasn't his favorite assumption, given his affection for the wildfire queen but it was the one he'd settled on nevertheless. His pace slowed as he approached, her form cutting a crimson silhouette in the shortening distance. His breath caught in the strong column of his throat as his steps slowed to a cease all together, crystalline blue eyes studying her as if she were a mirage. A flame dappled goddess of his imagination. Maybe she was. Maybe he'd finally cracked under the crushing weight of Tezcacoatl's memories as they tried to replace the false memories Ragnar had planted in his head and he'd gone crazy.

“Tuwawi,” He called to her, nevertheless.