an unashamed with the wicked tongues sing

For @Kroc!

The old wood was dense and provided perfect cover for her dark body to slip away into the shadows. It was nearing dusk for the Spine, the sun nearly dipped beneath the highest rims to the west. It was by no means dark for them yet, but the heat and humidity continued to hang on. As night drew nearer, that humidity only seemed to grow thicker; it was palpable to her as she moved effortlessly along the terrain.

At least in the shade along that slope she could detect just the hint of a breeze. It filtered itself down from the higher climes and swooped in, lending to the Spine a thankfully cooler patch to rest in. She was a true creature of the north, still not entirely accustomed to the warmth that came with such places. And to a degree, she hated it. But Echelon was loathe to seek out a cavern or empty den to cool herself in. Instead she kept herself hydrated and kept busy, forcing that acclimation as best as she could. Their enemies may not have been troubled by it, so why should she? She did not doubt that Tonravik would be doing the same, or even had been.

All that came to her mind was the preparations that lied ahead for them all.

16 horsepower — black soul choir