Frostfire Ridge she wears the smell of blood and death like perfume
i'm a hold my cards close, i'm a wreck what i love most
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"Lusca." she murmured, peering over the incline. Shelves once relatively safe were now laden with snowdrift, much to the detriment of indiscriminate paws bold enough to negotiate its treacherous mantle. This Thuringwethil was sensible not to persevere with her initial course of descent and instead opt for a more conservative path.

To her misfortune, Lusca knew so little of the area that she herself was far afield from where she needed to be, and would not be found to provide much assistance. Lusca pitched her muzzle rearward towards the pinewood way back.  "I came from there, so... not a clue in the world." She said. Her focus shifted to the virgin snow ahead, and she squinted, not espying anything promising from their vantage point. "Maybe there's a slope down the way." 
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RE: she wears the smell of blood and death like perfume - by Lusca - January 28, 2016, 03:12 PM