Silver Moraine chain hits my chest

Thuringwethil nods her head again, brushing off the information as easy and it surprises her a little she isn’t asked for more but she drifts off, speaking of the sea. The dark woman turns her head, looking to her right, as if she could see the water from where she stands. It still calls to her, a sense of home, but she keeps herself rooted to the mountain she’d claimed.

“I grew up on the water,” she tells the stranger, biting at her lip and whipping her head back around. She struggles to find the purpose of the statement, when she rarely told strangers of her background. The detail, as minute as it is, feels too intimate to let go to someone that doesn’t know anything else.

The only options for the loner were at the end of the moraine, to her right a maplewood and to the north, her mountain. Beyond that, Thuringwethil knows there’s plenty of travel between the her home and the next pack. “There’s Phoenix Maplewood which is the first you’d pass, and then Sleeping Dragon, a mountain to the north east.”