Sunspire Mountains Eptesicus

And bearable the season would no doubt remain was the thought that Echelon could not help but mirror. She liked the expanse of territory that they had claimed, though she had done more flitting about it and generally being an asshole of sorts than truly contributing to its exploration. At times, the Spire may as well have been a playground to suit her. At others, she found herself studying what parts of the landscape she could see over the foothills and their bolstered, numerous towers of forestry.

Sometimes, just sometimes, she thought she could see the minuscule movements of others meandering around. But mostly that was probably just the proteins floating through her gaze. Or whatever those annoying little squiggles in one's vision were. Of course her own thoughts to their future were there as well, even if they were not as forefront as they were for Tonravik. There was much to be done and she could have pretended to hear the tickling of some seasonal clock. Summer would give away soon enough, she was willing to believe. Summers did not last forever, not now or ever, and especially not here.

Whether or not they would rally together and hunt was beyond her; she was not much of a hunter for a list of short reasons. But the borders she would maintain without question or prompt, and she did. Nudging Tonravik again, Echelon truly had nothing more to say in that moment. She was simply content in stealing away a few uninterrupted moments — perhaps the last few — that she could with her aokkatti. It was as if to say that they had been through plenty and finally, it was paying off.